Heavenly (29 page)

flushed with a vibrant rosy hue. Though my dark hair was mussed from sleep, my green eyes were bright and alive, my lips

in a constant grin.

You're in love with him.

Chases words popped my exuberant balloon. I stared at myself. How can you be in love with someone you can never

have? But Matthias had said he and I were connected... oh, why didn't I know the rest of his thought? Why didn't I understand the grand plan?
Because the only grand plan is the one you're creating in your lovesick head, Zoe.
My smile faded, along with the brightness in my eyes.

I lowered myself to the bed, my gaze still on my reflection.
You can't let your heart go places it's not supposed to go.

In theory, this was true. But when I thought of Matthias, my body, mind and soul had an instantaneous reaction—like hunger

after starvation. Need and want reaching out for satisfaction.

This isn't as simple as hunger. Matthias is from another world. Another existence. A place you won't be for years and

years. By the time you get there you'll be old and wrinkly and decrepit. What would a beautiful, vibrant man like him want
with an aged crone?

The scenario was depressing.

I let out another sigh and fell back on my bed.

"Pancakes!" Mom's shout slipped under my closed bedroom door. I didn't feel like eating now.
Come on, Zoe. You've
never let a guy get to you before.
But Matthias wasn't just any guy. He was... irreplaceable.

There was too much I didn't know. How long was he going to be my guardian? Would I see him when I died? How

big was Heaven? Did people run into people they knew or did everyone wander aimlessly through misty clouds?

What a joke. Matthias had already told me Heaven was a lot like here.
Supremely better,
he'd said. Trying to envision a world supremely better than this was impossible. Could people really exist together in complete peace? How could opinion,

pride and ego not interfere? Not to mention the diverse ocean of wants.

How had a beautiful Saturday morning suddenly turned murky? I sat up, determined to enjoy the weekend and not

think about the impossible.

At least not for the next five minutes.

I had a lot to be grateful for: I'd apologized to Dad last night. That felt good. Luke and I were talking. A step in the

right direction. I had yet to apologize to Mom, but I could do that this morning.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen. Mom was dressed in her raspberry-colored robe, her dark hair in a claw at the

back other head, her morning face free of makeup. She smiled at me over the mixing bowl. Abria stood on a chair at the

table, flapping, singing words that had no rhyme or reason. Dad was halfway through a plate of pancakes. He wore flannel

pjś on the bottom with a soft old shirt. His salt and pepper hair stuck up like a hedge of dead weeds.

He smiled at me. "Morning, Zoe."

I kissed his stubbly cheek and the gloom I'd carried slipped away. "Hey." I sat at my usual spot. "The pancakes look great." My appetite crawled back. I looked across the table at Luke's empty place setting.

"What have you got on tap today?" Dad asked.

"Not much. Probably a party tonight." Dad's green eyes flickered with concern. "You wanted me to tell you. Don't worry, I'll be okay." I glanced at Mom, pouring batter onto the griddle. Her smile had vanished. "By the way, I'm sorry about yesterday, Mom." I forced myself to look at her—I owed her that much. She finished pouring the vanilla-colored batter and met my gaze with a smile of relief.

"We were all upset."

The last heavy layer of the previous night peeled back. My soul was free to take a deep breath. "I shouldn't have run

out of here."

Mom took the spatula in hand. "I know how it feels to want to run, Zoe." Her eyes stayed with mine speaking

unspoken words we all carried in our hearts about life with Abria. But Mom never ran. She stayed, stuck it out.

She flipped the pancakes, then smiled at me—a smile I recognized after living with her for so many years:
it's all

right.

Apologizing cleansed me.

I picked up my plate and went to the cooking island where she stood. Mom slid four pancakes onto my plate, then she

put down the spatula. I was ready to turn and head back to the table but she reached out and put her hands on my shoulders.

Her blue eyes filled with tears.

My heart swooped in my chest.

"I love you," she whispered.

My throat clogged with a surge of emotion. I wanted to say I loved her, too. But I was certain any words at that

moment would trigger a waterfall of tears and I didn't want the morning to be hard for them—recalling last night. I smiled. "I know you do."

She released me and wiped her eyes with the hem of a nearby dishtowel, then she picked up the batter bowl and

resumed pouring.

I sat at the table. Dad had witnessed the moment between Mom and I, his eyes were rimmed in red and glistening. I

loved that Dad wore his emotions like a well used accessory—without pride or vanity—over his heart.

I wanted a man like that someday.

Luke came in on a yawn. His scruffy gray sweats hung a lazy inch below plaid boxers. Blond hair on his chest

feathered down to his belly button. "Put on some clothes, why don't you?" I teased.

He stretched, groaned and twisted his back, bringing out a loud popping sound. Then he grinned big. "Ahh. Ready for

breakfast."

"How many do you want?" Mom asked the tone other voice as cheery as a Disney character.

"I'm guessing he can eat ten." Dad raised his brows, taunting.

Luke pulled out a chair and sat, plopping both elbows onto the table. "I'll start with five. Abria, sit down."

Abria had one foot on the chair she was standing on, the other poised— as if we wouldn't notice—on the table.

"Shurplesousdonshmalowya!" she screeched, then laughed.

"Mom and I thought it'd be fun to do something together today," Dad said.

"What's the weather supposed to be like?" I craned for a look out the window at the sky. White clouds. Patches of

blue sky.

"Cold but no snow until tonight." Mom poured more batter onto the griddle.

We'd stopped doing family things about a year ago, when Abriaś behavior meant she wouldn't sit still through a

movie, would run away from us, or stand on tables or—horror of horrors—drink from other peopleś beverages at

restaurants. Taking her anywhere meant we lived with our nerves exposed. Not a relaxing way to spend time together.

"I can't." Luke cut into his stack of pancakes. I wasn't surprised he was backing out—he hated being seen in public with Abria. "Gonna look for a job."

"On Saturday?" I asked. "Isn't that a Monday through Friday afternoon thing?"

"It's a whenever I can do it thing. I need a job. I'm going to go look today."

He'd tried holding down jobs before, but had flaked off, not sticking with anything for longer than a couple of

months. I hoped that he wasn't pursuing work to support his habit. I tried to shove that idea out of my mind because it brought gnarly dark feelings with it and the morning had been pleasant.

"They're hiring at McDonald's," I suggested. I remembered seeing the sign posted when I'd eaten there with Britt,

Weston, and Brady.

Luke nodded and filled his mouth with a bite. "Okay. Thanks."

I was still mulling over going to the party later at Westonś. I figured Britt was the one behind Brady s invitation. She

probably envisioned us making up. Usually, I was the first one to extend myself when Britt and I argued. I swallowed pride

easier than she did.

"Zoe, do you want to go with us to the zoo?" Dad asked.

I grinned at Abria. "Princess Abria's favorite place."

- - -

Hogle Zoo was a rather utilitarian home for exotic creatures. What the place lacked in natural atmosphere it made up

for in efficiency. All of the exhibits were arranged in one long time-saving loop. Once you'd made the loop and taken each

short offshoot, you were done. This was good for Abria because her attention span for any supervised activity ranged from

five seconds to five minutes.

So she wouldn't run away, we rented a heavy-duty plastic red wagon. The zoo had an entire fleet for toddlers and

young children, pushed and pulled along by panting parents.

I got the job of pulling her.

She clung to the side, eyes wide, so excited to ride, she barely noticed our first stop: the monkeys.

Mom took her head in her hands and turned it so she'd see the black, swinging creatures. Still engaged in the novelty

of riding in the wagon, Abria flicked her gaze at the squawking monkeys, flapped then gripped the sides of the wagon in a

sign of: forget-the-monkeys, I'm-ready-to-go.

The elephants were my favorite pachyderm; the large, African beasts must have been a favorite for a lot of other

people, because the crowd around their outdoor exhibit was large. Dad, Mom and I waited behind the five-people deep

gathering for our turn to move to the front, so Abria could see.

As we inched forward, I saw that the wagon and its bulk were getting in the way. "I'll park the wagon over there with

the others."

Dad took Abria into his arms. "Come on, Abria."

Her eyes locked on the wagon. In spite of Dad's gallant efforts to show her the elephants, Abria squirmed and

writhed—her focus on the red wagon parked a few feet away.

We moved onto the next exhibit: polar bears. One massive beast lay sprawled near an icy cascade of water. The other

was nowhere in sight. Sleeping bears are dull, so we moved on to the tigers.

The orange and black beauty roamed the "tundra" back and forth, back and forth, in a repetitive motion that caught

Abria's eye—maybe she could relate to the animal's need for repetition. I wasn't sure. But she focused on the zigzagging tiger long enough for us to cheer once and describe in a short sentence that tigers were
big cats.

When it was time to move on around the loop. Dad gingerly placed her into the wagon and pulled her down a slow

decline. Abria flapped and laughed. Soon, Dad was at a jog, pulling her along, laughing with her. For the first time in as long as I could remember, Dad looked like he was having fun, too.

I was glad we'd come to the zoo.

We ate lunch near the playzoo—a sanded area surrounding an animal-themed play set with picnic tables where

patrons could eat while children acted like animals. Abria forwent eating and ran to the gym, climbing without fear to the

highest bars.

Abria's fearlessness always garnered a few stares of criticism. Like:
don't you care about how high she's climbing?

Don't you see that can be dangerous? What's wrong with you?

Usually, I glared brazen onlookers into deference. Today, the darts of criticism silently thrown our direction flew past

me with little notice. I kept a smile on my face and my eyes on my sister. She was happy. Her sense of balance was rivaled

only by birds. Pretty amazing.

Mom and Dad chatted over lunch while I stood near the play gym with Abria. Occasionally Mom dipped her head

into the curve of Dad's neck. He wrapped his arm around her, held her. He even snuck a kiss.

Sweet.

I turned my attention back to the play set and didn't see Abria up on the top bar. My gaze swept the gym. So as to not

alert my parents—they were enjoying themselves so much— I ventured closer. The panic I usually felt when I couldn't see

Abria, snapped to attention. I searched for Matthias, didn't see his tall, erect form anywhere.

Immediately, I walked the circumference of the play area, searching for her. The sound of Mom's laughter caused me

to whip my attention to where Mom and Dad were sitting. They stood now, talking to a grey-uniformed zoo worker who held

Abria in his arms.

Matthias.

Relief poured into my system. I smiled and crossed to them, shocked. Thrilled. Awed. They could see Matthias. He

was talking to them.

"There you are." My gaze met Matthias' deep blue glittering eyes.

"This nice young man found Abria." Mom looked effervescent. So did Dad. Clearly, Matthias' soothing calm had

engulfed them and any worries they might have had were gone.

"Well, hello there." Matthias held my gaze in an unspoken message of familiarity. "Is this your dazzling sister you were telling me about, Miss Abria?"

Mom's laugh fluttered out like a school girls. She smoothed back her hair, her hands nervous. I couldn't stop grinning.

Dazzling?
Heat flushed my face.

Yes, dazzling.

"She doesn't usually speak," Mom said.

Dad smiled at Abria. "She tries real hard, don't you beautiful girl?"

"Look how calm she is," Mom observed. "Do you have children?"

Mathias threw his head back in a contagious laugh. "No."

"You're very good with them." Mom eyed his name tag. So did I. How did he manage to get a tag with his name on

it? "Matthias."

Matthias dipped his head. "Thank you."

"We usually don't bring her to places like this," I said. "She likes to run.

Dad lifted a shoulder. "But she loves the zoo, so we try." "And we're so glad you brought her." Matthias gave Abria a quick squeeze.

Mom reached out for Abria. Matthias caught the motion out the corner of his eye and a flash of awkwardness crossed

his face. I snapped my arms out. Smoothly, he passed Abria into my arms, mine brushing his, bringing our gazes together in a

tight lock that sent warm flutterings through my body. Breath—his, mine—I wasn't sure who's, whooshed through my cells

and it seemed as if my whole being took a deep sigh.

"I'll take her," my words whispered out. Abria's calm demeanor remained. "You do have a way with her."