The Book of Joby (66 page)

“Have you no old friends in Taubolt then, Michael? Or should I call you Jake?” He smiled grimly as Michael conceded the point. “You followed Joby here, I take it?”

“Hawk actually,” Michael replied. “You gave him quite a scare at first, and I pay special attention to Taubolt’s children. Your skills have grown mighty indeed, Merlin. I’d not have believed even you could hide all this right under my nose for . . . how long now?”

“December, more or less.”

“I thought so,” Michael sighed. “What on earth are you thinking, Merlin? Did you really believe the Creator could be deceived just by covering my eyes?”

“Deceiving
Him
was not my concern,” Merlin sighed. “It was only your own disposition toward my purpose here that concerned me.” He shrugged and smiled. “I apologize, if that will help.”

“To me?” Michael chided. “It is not
my
will you defy here.”

“You won’t hinder me then?”

Michael looked mildly surprised. “For all you’ve been set apart, you are
still a mortal man, and like all mortal men, free to choose your own path, Merlin, for good or ill. You know that as well as I.”

“I feared you might have been commanded to enforce His will in this matter.”

“I have had no such command,” the angel assured him, looking troubled for the first time in their conversation. “In fact, I have been left without any word from Him at all since this matter started. His decree against interference was the last instruction I was given.” The angel’s gaze hardened some. “The same decree you surely received.”

“Yes,” Merlin said sadly. “Which I find I cannot obey.”

The angel shook his head. “Then the boy has not
asked
for your help.”

“Me?” Merlin laughed bitterly. “How could he? He thinks his grandfather long dead, and, if I read his boyhood journal rightly, even my real identity has been usurped by the enemy.”

“If you still call him enemy,” Michael replied, “why are you defying our Lord?”

“What do you expect of me, Michael?” Merlin demanded angrily. “Are
fifteen hundred years
of loyalty to Heaven not sufficient proof of my intentions?”

“Longevity was not thrust upon you unwillingly, as I recall,” the angel replied. “You accepted your mandate as a gift, and of him to whom much is given, much will be required. I know it is hard, but—”

“Oh, spare me your platitudes, Michael!” Merlin snapped. “What do you know of perishable love?” Merlin looked away, unable to endure the angel’s sympathetic gaze. “I am as loyal to the Creator as ever I was. What I would give much to know is why
He
has left
me and my family
in this abysmal circumstance with no right way to proceed.”

“Surely you are too much wiser than other men to seek refuge in such confusion,” Michael quietly insisted. “Obedience is the right way to proceed. What mortal man knows this better than yourself? Truly, you astonish me.”

“Obedience to what?” Merlin demanded hotly. “To love? Has that not been the foremost law of Heaven since ever there were laws? The Creator knows I love Him well, but I love my grandson too, and my daughter!” He could not keep his voice from shaking, or tears from welling in his eyes. “How, in Heaven’s name, am I to choose between love and love, Michael? How can the Author of love itself demand that of me?”

Looking, perhaps, contrite, Michael said nothing.

“It still torments me to recall how I failed Arthur, who was, in all but fact, a son to me,” Merlin said more quietly. “I will not fail this boy who is
my grandson in truth. If our Lord should damn me for it, then I will be damned.”

“You cannot know what that means,” Michael said softly.

“No, I only know what it would mean to betray my grandson.”

“You do not mean to tell him about the wager, do you?” Michael warned. “That would mean default.”

“Do you think me
that
rash?” Merlin said wearily.

“Your artful little tale came perilously close,” the angel pressed.

“But close only,” Merlin insisted.

The angel sat in silence for a time, searching Merlin’s face, then said, “There is one thing that deeply puzzles me. If you so love your daughter and her son, why pretend to die, and leave them?”

“You do have a talent, angel, for knowing just where to rub the salt.”

“I do not seek to hurt you,” Michael said. “You know that’s not my nature.”

“Nonetheless, you do,” said Merlin sadly. “My gift for premonition is a chancy thing, being, as it is, the bequest of my demonic father, but bitter experience has taught me to ignore it to my peril. Having divined some imminent calamity aimed at my daughter and her family, I could secure no clue as to its nature or what might be required to protect them when it came. To my endless grief and disgust, I foolishly determined that I might help them more effectively unhobbled by the parameters of my disguise as a frail old man. There seemed only one way to free myself from that disguise, though severing a hand—both hands—would not have caused me so much pain. I told myself that I was doing it for them.

“Then the nameless crisis finally came and, with it, a command from no one less than Him we serve that I must not help the ones I loved at all!” Merlin looked back into the angel’s eyes unsure whether to beseech or rage. “Do you begin to see what this ordeal has cost me, angel? How I am paid for all the centuries of faithful service I have rendered? Tell me again how obvious and simple such a choice as mine should be!”

Merlin’s angry gaze wandered from the angel’s face to Abigail’s spinning wheel, and all his anger drained away like water into sand. Suddenly unspeakably weary, he simply bowed his head, half-glad that his beloved wife was not alive to see what had come of his one unguarded concession to love after so many ages alone.

“The Creator’s blessings on you, friend,” Michael said softly, rising to go. “Take care, and choose wisely. I wish this reunion had been a happier
one. . . . And—” He fell abruptly silent, looking more troubled than Merlin had imagined one of his kind could.

“And what?” Merlin asked, wondering fearfully what could bring such distress to the face of an angel.

“Nothing,” Michael murmured, turning away. “An unworthy thought.” He looked back at Merlin, tried to smile, and failed, alarming Merlin more. Then he was gone.

It was twilight when they finally arrived at Hawk’s house, winded but exuberant.

“Wow!” Joby gasped as they stood outside recovering. “That’s the funnest thing I’ve done since I was twelve, I think!”

“You did great,” said Hawk. “This was a great day! You should have dinner with us before my mom drives you back.”

“If that’s okay with her,” Joby said. “Just . . . let me catch my breath here first.”

“Hey, you two.” Hawk’s mother stood at the top of the stairs, silhouetted in the lighted doorway. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming back. Anybody hungry?”

To Joby’s relief, she didn’t sound upset. He couldn’t make out much of her appearance in the growing gloom, but her voice seemed strangely familiar.

“Depends,” Hawk called nonchalantly. “What ya got?” Joby caught the hint of a sly grin on his face in the low light.

“Lasagna, candied carrots, and shrimp salad,” she said dryly. “That good enough, your majesty?”

“Got potential,” Hawk teased. “Can my teacher stay too?”

“If you’d quit teasing me and get up here, Arthur. I still have to drive him home afterward, remember?”

“Arthur?” Joby said.

“It’s my name,” Hawk lamented, starting for the stairs. “Everybody calls me Hawk but her.”

Mounting the jiggly flight of stairs in darkness was even scarier than it had been by daylight, and all Joby’s attention went to keeping his footing until they’d arrived safely at the top. Then, he looked up, and saw Hawk’s mother, who had stepped back into the lighted hallway to make room for them.

It took a second for the features to register, another to surmount his disbelief. Then, all Joby could do was stare.

“My God,” she whispered.

“What?” Hawk said, looking from one of them to the other.

“Laura?” Joby said, still frozen where he stood.

“Joby?” Laura gasped. “How . . . What are you doing here?”

“You know each other?” Hawk asked.

“I live here, Laura,” Joby said, hardly trusting his voice. “In Taubolt.”

“You’re Arthur’s English teacher?” She sounded stunned, frightened, angry, many things at once, but happy was not among them.

“You’re Hawk’s mother,” Joby said in tenacious disbelief.

“Yes,” she said hotly. “I’m his mother.”

“What’s going on?” Hawk demanded. “Why are you guys acting like this?”

The question broke Joby’s trance, and Laura’s too, it seemed. She raised a hand to massage her forehead.

“Believe it or not, Hawk,” Joby said, “your mom and I grew up together.”

“What?”
Hawk exclaimed.
“Where?”

“Long, long ago, and far, far away,” Laura said, letting her hand drop, and smiling wanly. “Why don’t you come in, Joby, while some of the bugs are still outside.”

“I’m sorry.” He stepped in, and she closed the door. “I just can’t believe it’s you.”

“Tell me about it” Laura laughed, starting to recover. Her hair was longer than he’d ever seen it, and there were lines in her face that hadn’t been there before. It had been fourteen years, after all. But she was as lovely as he remembered. More so. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have baked a cake,” she quipped. “You do have time to stay for dinner, I hope?”

“Of course,” Joby said, beginning to regain his balance. “My God! It’s so great to see you!” he said, and thought,
What kind of asshole leaves a woman like Laura?

“Wait a minute!” Hawk half-yelled. “You guys
grew up together
?”

“If you’d told me your English teacher was named Joby Peterson,” Laura smiled archly at her son, “I’d have said so sooner.”

“This is . . .
too weird
!” Hawk said.

“I’d like to eat dinner before it’s all gone cold, Arthur,” Laura said. “Go wash up, okay?” When he’d gone, staring back at them until he was out of sight, she turned to Joby, and said, “It is good to see you again, Joby, if a little amazing. But, since you’re sort of the one who brought me here, I guess maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I brought you?” Joby asked. “How?”

“You don’t remember how stuck on this place you used to be?” She shook her head and smirked. “You almost never stopped talking about it when we were kids. Made it sound like the Garden of Eden, so I finally came to see for myself.”

“You remember that?” Joby said, bemused.

“I remember everything.” Joby’s smile faltered. “You and Ben went off without me on your little birthday trip.” She grinned whimsically. “You never even noticed how ticked off I was, did you?” She turned to head for the kitchen, and huffed,
“Boys.”

In truth, Merlin was relieved he’d been discovered. It had been a great nuisance, having to keep himself and his house shielded night and day from the angel’s awareness. Knowing that Michael would not oppose him made everything easier.

He stepped onto the inn’s porch, let the knocker fall several times, and waited until the door was answered.