Something Blue

Chapter 3

Katherine

She had hoped death would be a relief. Freedom from pain and worry and the weight constantly tugging her toward the earth. She thought angels would sing as she floated through the gates of Heaven. She'd done wrong, for sure, but she had also repented. Jesus loved sinners. She had tried to tell Jacob that, once. Christ died to forgive our sins, not to punish them, she had said. He had smacked her with the flat of his hand so hard her ear popped and rang, and she hadn't said it again. Nonetheless she still believed it, and she had really thought death would be a gentle welcoming into God's embrace.

Instead, it was turning out to be an agonizing, jostling affair. So agonizing she was beginning to think she hadn't died at all. But if she wasn't dead, where was that voice coming? The voice of an angel. Deep and sweet, like rich dark coffee. Soft and strong, like rolling storm clouds on a hot summer day, promising cooler air. That wasn't the voice of a mortal man. It couldn't be. It was the voice of dreams.

"We're almost there, Katie. Almost there." The voice sent vibrations through her aching body and soothed the pounding in her head. "Just hang on."

Hang on to what? There was no need to hang on when she was being carried like this. Spirited away in the arms of an angel. She felt the warmth of Godliness radiating from his form as strong arms cradled her. She could hang on to him. She could wrap her arms around his neck and cling to safety as he flew them both to Heaven.

"God dammit, kid, stop that." Such language, from the mouth of an angel? Confused, she struggled to open her eyes. Only one would open, and even then reluctantly. She saw nothing through the narrow opening-- only gray light and a dark silhouette. Perhaps she wasn't flying to heaven, if she felt this awful. Perhaps she was still on earth. But, then, who was carrying her?

She moved, struggling to free herself as reality oozed back into her consciousness, inky and foul. She remembered Jacob hitting her. Beating her until she lay on the verge of unconsciousness on the kitchen floor. She remembered Izzy rushing into the room, remembered staring at her daughter's bare feet, the hem of her nightgown, and the feet of her ragged bear, dragging on the ground near her head.

"Stop!" Isobel had screamed, rising to her defense when no one else would. "Stop!"

And then Jacob had finally crossed that invisible line. He had hit Katherine's daughter. Backhanded her hard across her face, sending her falling toward the stove. She hadn't moved, sprawled on the floor at his feet while a surge of shock and fury rocked through Katherine's battered system. As her husband had advanced on Isobel, she had clawed her way up the side of the table until she stood. Isobel cried. Jacob roared. Katherine reached for the nearest heavy object, wood from the box by the door, and swung.

And now here she was, floating through the night in the arms of an angel.

"Izzy," she tried to say, but all that came out was a rasping gasp. It was so hard to breathe. Her chest felt as if it was splintering apart. Her throat was raw and dry.

"Almost there," her savior huffed. Now that she was listening, he didn't sound very holy. He sounded quite earthly. His voice was hushed and strained, his breathing labored. She turned her face toward his heavenly warmth and smelled the bite of masculine sweat.

"Izzy," she tried again, and this time the sound escaped, a wheeze shaped around the letters of her daughter's name. The most precious hymn she'd ever sing.

"She's safe. She's right here. Say something to your mama, kid."

"Hi, ma." Isobel's voice was small and thick with tears, but it was undeniably her. Katherine let her eye slide shut, sagging into his hold. His hold.

"Gabe?" she breathed. God, she was so thirsty.

"Yeah, it's me. Try to stay still, would you? We'll get you fixed up."

"Gabe..."

"Stop trying to talk, Kat." His voice was stern and she remembered that he was a man now. Not the boy she'd grown up loving. He had been so sweet in his youth, all false bravado and innocent affection. He had told her all his secrets, and she had gifted all of hers to him. Perhaps he had aged, but she knew in her weary, empty heart that she could trust the man just as deeply as she had trusted the boy.

"Izzy," she gasped.

"She's right h--"

"Look.... after..." she moaned, cutting him off, desperate to get the words out. She was so cold, she knew she didn't have much time.

"I will, Katie. I'll keep her safe until you're better."

If she hadn't long ago expended all her tears, she'd have wept. He didn't understand. She turned her face toward his body and fought for the strength to tell him all he needed to know. All she needed him to know. "She... I..." pain speared through her chest, making her dizzy. She sucked at the thick air, unable to draw enough into her lungs to calm the panic raging in through her body.

"Hang on, kid." The world shifted dizzily as movement ceased, and she felt soft, damp earth beneath her as she was placed on the ground. His arms still held her, propping her up. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and the change of position made her abdomen ache, but she could breathe easier like this.

"Is she okay?" a soft voice asked. Tiny fingers touched her face, and she wished she could pull her daughter close and whisper promises and apologies into her ear. But all she could do was hang limp in Gabe's grasp, wheezing for air while his free hand rubbed between her shoulder blades.

"She will be. We just need to get her somewhere safe. Hop back on, now. We need to go."

Isobel's presence disappeared. Where had she gone? Hop back on where? On what? Her worries were swept away by the wash of pain as she was levered back into his arms and lifted. The stability of the ground disappeared, and a wave of black swept over her. She wanted to stay. For Isobel. But the current of pain carried her away into the darkness. Her last conscious thought was a question-- would it be better for her to leave? To fade into the hereafter? To pass her daughter into the keeping of a man who would protect her with the ferocious single-mindedness of a cornered wolf? Or would it be better to stay? To show Isobel what it meant to be free? To be kind? What did the girl need more? Safety or affection? A fortress or a wide open plain?

Even Isobel's fate was not enough to keep her planted in reality. A river of pain and weakness bore her downstream. Away from Izzy. Away from him. Away from right and wrong, from good and bad, from sin and salvation, from shame and redemption. It carried her right over a jagged edge into a pitch black chasm and she fell...

fell...

fell...