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  He twisted my hair around his fingers and I saw, reflected in his gesture, our lives entwined.

  “Ivy was being dramatic when she said there’s no turning back,” I said.

  “It’s okay, Beth. I don’t want my life to go back to the way it was before I met you. I thought I had it all, but really I was missing something. I feel like a completely different person now. This might sound corny, but I feel like I’ve been asleep for a long time, and you’ve just woken me up . . .” He paused. “I can’t believe I just said that. What are you doing to me?”

  “Turning you into a poet,” I teased.

  “Me?” Xavier growled in mock anger. “Poetry’s for girls.”

  “You were great back there. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself.”

  “Thank you. Who knows, maybe a few decades from now your brother and sister might actually like me.”

  “I wish we had that long.” I sighed and immediately regretted the words. They had just slipped out. I could have kicked myself for being so stupid; what a perfect way to ruin the mood.

  Xavier was so silent, I wondered if he’d even heard me. Then I felt his warm fingers under my chin, and he tilted my face up so we were looking eye to eye. He leaned down and kissed me softly, the sweet taste of his lips lingering after he pulled away. He bent forward and murmured in my ear, “We will find a way. That’s a promise.”

  “You can’t know that,” I said. “This is different. . . .”

  “Beth.” Xavier put a finger against my lips. “I don’t break my promises.”

  “But . . .”

  “No buts . . . just trust me.”

  When Xavier left, no one wanted to go to bed even though it was already past midnight. Gabriel we knew was an insomniac. It wasn’t unusual for him or Ivy to stay up till the early hours of the morning. But this time all three of us were restless and alert. Ivy suggested a hot drink and was already pulling milk out of the fridge when Gabriel cut in.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “I think we all deserve to unwind.”

  Ivy and I guessed his meaning immediately and didn’t even bother trying to hide our excitement.

  “Do you mean right now?” Ivy said, the milk carton almost slipping from her grasp.

  “Of course, right now. But we have to hurry; it’ll be light in a few hours.”

  Ivy let out a squeal. “Just give us a moment to change! We’ll be right back.”

  I too could hardly contain my anticipation. This would be the perfect way to express the exhilaration I was feeling about the direction my relationship with Xavier had taken. It had been so long since I’d had a chance to really stretch my wings. My cliff-diving performance for Xavier hardly qualified as exercise. If anything, it had only served to whet my appetite and remind me how stiff and cramped my wings really felt. I had tried spreading them out and floating around my bedroom with the curtains pulled tight shut, but I’d only crashed into the ceiling fan and bumped my legs on the furniture. As I changed into a loose T-shirt, I felt a bolt of adrenaline shoot through my body. I was going to really savor this predawn flight. I went downstairs, and the three of us made our way silently out to the black Jeep parked in the garage.

  It was a different experience driving along the coastal road that unfurled like a ribbon in the early morning. The air was fragrant with the scent of pine, and the trees were tipped with green. The sea looked solid, like a velvet mantle that had been draped over part of the earth. Along the residential streets, the shutters were all closed, and the streets were deserted as if the occupants had suddenly packed up and evacuated. The township, when we drove through it, was also deserted. I’d never seen Venus Cove asleep. I was so used to seeing people everywhere: riding bikes, eating fries on the pier, or buying jewelry from local craftsmen who set up their stalls on the pavement. But at that hour of the morning, there was a stillness that made me imagine we were the only living beings in the world. I wondered why people referred to the early hours of the morning as “ungodly” when in fact that was the very best time to connect with the forces above.

  Gabriel drove for about an hour along a straight stretch of road, then turned onto a bumpy scrub-lined track that seemed to wind toward the sky like a corkscrew. I knew where we were. Gabriel was taking the route to White Mountain, named because of the snow that sometimes coated its peak, despite its coastal location. You could see the mountain’s outline from Venus Cove, like a pale gray monolith rising against a star-studded night sky.

  There was fog up on the mountain, and the higher we drove the thicker it became. When Gabriel could no longer distinguish the road ahead he parked and we climbed out. We were standing on a narrow and winding road that continued uphill; tall fir trees, like soldiers, surrounded us on all sides, almost completely blocking out the sky. The tips of the trees were studded with beads of dew, and we could see our breath materialized in the cold air when we exhaled. The ground underfoot was sodden with leaves and bark, muffling our footsteps. Moss-covered branches and tendrils of ferns brushed against our faces. We veered off the road, disappearing into the dense forest. Shafts of moonlight sliced through the canopy in places, like little spotlights illuminating our way. The trees whispered softly to one another and we could hear gentle rustling and the scampering of small paws. Despite the darkness none of us felt afraid. We knew the mountain was completely secluded. No one would find us there.

  Ivy was the first to cast off her jacket and do what we were all waiting to do. She stood facing us, her back straight and her head thrown back so that her pale hair cascaded like a golden nimbus around her face and shoulders. In the moonlight she glowed like a lamp, and her sculpted figure looked like marble, white and flawless. Her body curved perfectly, each limb as long and elegant as a sapling.

  “See you up there,” she said like an excited child. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then sprinted away from us. She ran swiftly and nimbly through the trees, her feet barely touching the ground and gathered speed until she was almost a blur. Then she became suddenly airborne. There was a breathtaking artistry in it—Ivy made it look as easy as a swan taking flight. Her wings, slender but powerful, sliced through the loose T-shirt she wore and reared Heavenward like living entities. The wings that looked as solid as stone when stationary shone like satin in full flight.

  I broke into a run and felt my own wings begin to pulse and then tear through their cage of cloth. Once released, their beating grew faster, and I too was lifted into the air to join Ivy. We flew in synchronization for a while, gliding slowly upward, then dipping suddenly, and finally coming to land on the soles of our feet on the branches of a nearby tree. From there we looked down at Gabriel with radiant faces. Ivy bent and let herself topple from the tree. The span of her wings broke her fall, and she swooped upward again with a gasp of pleasure.

  “What are you waiting for?” she called down to Gabriel before she disappeared into a cloud.

  Gabriel, who never did anything in a hurry, methodically peeled off layers and tossed aside his boots. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and we watched his wings unfurl until the genteel music teacher had disappeared and he looked like the majestic celestial warrior he was created to be. This was the angel who, eons ago, had singlehandedly reduced a city to ash and stone. His entire figure shone like burnished brass. Even in flight his style was different from ours, lacking in urgency, more structured and meditative.

  Above the treetops I was enveloped by mist and cloud. Droplets of water gathered on my back, and I felt their crisp bite. My wings beat furiously and lifted me higher. I abandoned thought and soared, letting my body twist and turn, looping around the trees. I felt the release of energy that had been pent up for so long. I saw Gabriel stop midair once to ascertain that I hadn’t lost control. Ivy I only spotted every now and then as an amber glow through the mist.

  For the most part interaction was kept to a minimum. This was our own personal time to feel whole again and embrace the kind of freedom that
could only ever truly be felt in the Kingdom of Heaven. Our oneness was beyond the power of language to convey. Our humanity dropped away as we experienced our true selves.

  We flew like this for what must have been several hours, until Gabriel emitted a low melodic hum, like the note of an oboe, which we knew was the signal to come down.

  As we climbed into the Jeep, I thought there was no chance of my going to sleep once we got home. I was too jubilant, and it would be hours before I came down from my high. But I was wrong. The car trip back along the winding road was so rhythmic that I fell asleep curled on the backseat like a kitten long before Byron came into view.

  17

  Calm Before the Storm

  My relationship with Xavier seemed to deepen after the dinner with my family. We felt we had been given permission to express our emotions without fear of reprisal. We began to think and move in sync with each other, like one entity occupying different bodies. Although we made a conscious effort not to disconnect from everyone around us, at times it just couldn’t be helped. We even tried allocating specific times to spend with other people, but when we did, the minutes seemed to drag and our behavior felt so contrived that we inevitably gravitated back together within the hour.

  During lunch Xavier and I had taken to sitting together at our own private table at the back of the cafeteria. People drifted over from time to time to share a joke or ask “Woodsy” about details of a swim meet, but rarely did anyone attempt to join us nor were references made to our relationship. Instead people orbited around us, keeping a respectful distance. If they sensed there were secret issues between us, they at least had the manners not to pry.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Xavier said, packing up his books.

  “Not until you’ve finished your essay.”

  “I’m done.”

  “You’ve written three lines.”

  “Three carefully considered lines,” Xavier objected. “Quality over quantity, remember?”

  “I’m just making sure you stay focused. I don’t want to be responsible for distracting you from your goals.”

  “Bit late for that,” Xavier joked. “You’re a huge distraction and a very bad influence.”

  “How dare you!” I teased. “It’s impossible for me to be a bad influence on anyone.”

  “Really? And why is that?”

  “Because I’m goodness personified—I’m so clean I squeak!”

  Xavier’s brows furrowed as he pondered this admission. “Hmmm,” he said after a moment. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

  “Any excuse to get out of homework!”

  “Maybe it’s more that I have the rest of my life for achieving my goals. Who knows how long I’ve got with you.”

  I felt the lightheartedness seep from the conversation as soon as those words were spoken. We usually skirted around this topic—it mostly led to confusion as things do when they’re outside our sphere of control.

  “Let’s not think about that.”

  “How can I not think about it? Doesn’t it keep you awake at night?”

  The conversation was going down a road I didn’t like.

  “Of course I think about it,” I said. “But I don’t see the point in spoiling our time together now.”

  “I just feel like we should be doing something,” he said angrily. I knew the anger wasn’t directed at me. The fact that there was no one to blame made things even harder. “We should at least be trying.”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” I said quietly. “I don’t think you realize what you’re dealing with here. You can’t just mess around with the forces of the universe!”

  “What ever happened to free will? Or was that just a myth?”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m not like you so those rules don’t apply to me.”

  “Maybe they should.”

  “Maybe . . . but what are we going to do about it, start a petition?”

  “That’s not funny, Beth. Do you want to go home?” Xavier asked, his eyes locked with mine.

  I knew he wasn’t referring to Byron.

  “I can’t believe you even have to ask me that question.”

  “Then why doesn’t this bother you as much as it bothers me?”

  “If I thought there was any way I could stay here, do you think I would hesitate?” I cried. “Do you think I’d willingly walk away from the most important thing in my life?”

  Xavier turned to look at me, his turquoise eyes dark, his mouth narrowed into a hard line. “They, whoever they are, shouldn’t have control over our lives,” he said. “I’m not about to lose you. I’ve been through that before, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Xavier . . . ,” I began, but he silenced me by putting a finger lightly over my lips.

  “Just answer me one question. If we were to fight this, what are our options?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “But are there options, someone we can ask for help, something we can try, even if it’s a long shot?” I looked into his eyes and saw an urgency that had never been there before. Xavier was always so calm and relaxed. “Beth, I need to know,” he said. “Is there a chance? Even a small one?”

  “There might be,” I said. “But I’m afraid of finding out.”

  “Me too, but we can’t think that way. We have to have faith.”

  “Even if it all comes to nothing?”

  “You said yourself there was a chance.” Xavier laced his fingers with mine. “That’s all we need.”

  Over the last weeks I’d felt a little guilty about distancing myself from Molly, but she had resigned herself to spending time with me whenever Xavier was otherwise occupied. I knew she must be resentful of his monopoly of my time and attention, but Molly was a realist and held the view that friendships had to take a backseat when relationships started—especially if the relationship was as intense as mine and Xavier’s. She seemed to have overcome her previous irritation with him, and although she was far from willing to acknowledge him as her friend, she was much more prepared to accept him as one of mine.

  Xavier and I were walking into town one afternoon when we spotted Ivy under an oak tree with a dark-haired senior from Bryce Hamilton. The boy was wearing a backward baseball cap, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to show off his muscular arms, and he kept smirking suggestively as he spoke. I’d never seen my sister look so flustered. The boy had her cornered; she clutched a shopping bag with one hand and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear with the other, clearly seeking a means of escape.

  I nudged Xavier. “What’s going on over there?”

  “Looks like Chris Bucknall finally worked up the nerve to ask her out,” Xavier said.

  “You know him?”

  “He’s on my water-polo team.”

  “I don’t think he’s Ivy’s type.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Xavier said. “He’s a total sleaze.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Hey, Bucknall,” Xavier called out. “Can I have a word?”

  “Little busy here, dude,” the boy replied.

  “Did you hear the news?” Xavier said. “Coach wants to see everyone in his office tonight after the game?”

  “Yeah? What for?” Chris said without turning around.

  “Not sure. Something about taking names for next season’s tryouts. Anyone who doesn’t show doesn’t get in.”

  Chris Bucknall looked alarmed. “I gotta go,” he told Ivy. “I’ll catch you later.”

  Ivy gave Xavier a grateful smile as Chris sprinted away.

  Gabriel and Ivy finally seemed to have accepted Xavier. He didn’t intrude on our space but rather became a regular fixture within it. I began to suspect they actually liked having him around: first, because he was so reliable in terms of keeping an eye on me; and second, because he was useful when it came to working technical gadgets. Gabriel had found his students giving him strange looks when he didn�
�t know how to work the DVD player, and Ivy wanted to promote her social service program via the school e-mail system. Both had enlisted Xavier’s help. Knowledgeable as my siblings were, technology was a bit of a minefield for them, because it changed constantly. Gabriel had also grudgingly allowed Xavier to show him how to send e-mails to his fellow colleagues at Bryce Hamilton and teach him the workings of an iPod. It seemed to me that Xavier spoke a whole different language sometimes, using alien terms like Bluetooth, gigabyte, and WiFi. If it had been anyone else, I would have switched off, but I loved the sound of his voice, no matter what he was talking about. I could occupy myself for hours watching the way he moved, listening to the way he spoke, committing it all to memory.

  Aside from being our tech angel, Xavier took his responsibility as my “bodyguard” so seriously that I found myself having to remind him that I wasn’t made of glass and had managed quite adequately before his arrival. Entrusted to look after me by Gabriel and Ivy, Xavier was determined to keep his word and convince them of his moral fiber. He was the one who reminded me to drink plenty of water and the one who deflected questions about my family from curious classmates. He even took it upon himself to answer for me one day when Mr. Collins asked why I hadn’t managed to finish my homework by the due date.

  “Beth has a lot of other commitments at the moment,” he explained. “She’ll get the assignment in by the end of the week.”

  I knew that if it slipped my mind, Xavier would complete it for me and hand it in without my knowledge.

  He became fiercely protective whenever anybody he didn’t approve of came within a two-foot radius of me.

  “Uh-uh.” He shook his head at me when a boy named Tom Snooks asked if I wanted to “hang” with him and his friends one afternoon.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked crossly. “He seems nice enough.”

  “He’s not your type of person.”

  “Why?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Now tell me why.”

  “Well, because he’s off with the green fairy most of the time.”