Revealed

One Katty Randolph stuffed a twenty into her jeans pocket and tiptoed past where Bea was watching TV. A perpetual zigzag of toys, crayons and papers littered the floor. Dishes in the sink. Phew. Trash stunk, too. There weren’t even any poopy diapers anymore. How could just napkins and cereal boxes smell so bad? How long had it been since she’d emptied …? Katty leaned over the back of the sofa and whispered. “Sweetie?” She propped her chin on top of Bea’s head. No answer. The TV shows these days. YouTube. At least this show had something educational—science. The guy was a little loopy, but Bea liked it. Whispering, again. “Bea? Mommy’s gotta go to the store quick.” She held her breath. Sometimes Bea didn’t hear her and she could scoot out to the car without being missed. “Can I come?” Bea pointed the remote at the TV and shut it off. Katty sighed. Not this time. “Honey, jush shay here and I’ll be right back.” Bea growled. “But I wanna come.” She brightened. “We need cereal.” “Good try.” Katty laughed. Bea was one smart kid. “No, we don’t. I jush bought some … the other day.” She ticked Bea, wrestled the remote from her tiny hand, and clicked on the show again. Bouncing behind the sofa, she sang, “I’ll bring you candy!” Bea nodded and clapped. “Bring me candy, Mommy!” Bea bounced along with Katty. “Candy necklaces! Please?” Katty belched. Breathe. Shouldn’t have bounced. At least Bea bought in. “Candy necklaces, it is.” Katty brushed the hair off of Bea’s forehead and kissed it. “Smoochy, smoochy. I’ll be right back. Just stay here and watch your shows. Okay?” Bea was already off into the world of science. Tornadoes today: trees ripped from the ground, roofs torn off homes, debris everywhere. Black holes tomorrow. Katty slipped to the door, glancing back to make sure Bea was still sitting down and not following her. Whew. Door lock didn’t work anymore, so she made sure she closed the door quietly but securely. She walked to her car and jumped in, grabbing her keys from under the car mat at her feet. Best place to hide keys. As she dangled them from her fingers, her attention returned to the trailer door lock. Oh yeah. The trailer lock wasn’t broken. She’d lost the key somewhere. She and Bea had even dumped her purse out onto the carpet, and Bea had helped her dig through the mess. No key. “Cute!” Bea had grabbed for a shooter bottle, but Katty had intercepted and distracted her with gum from the bottom of the bag, just in time. Dang, that kid. She was always one step ahead. She loved tiny things, and those bottles were … pretty, especially when filled with the delicious yellow liquid. God, she needed one of those cute little delicious bottles right now. Soon. Now. Just drive. “Mommy?” Bea rushed to the living room window just in time to see the car turn out of the trailer court. She blinked. The noise of the TV show blared in the background. But there was a sound louder than the TV. The sound of her own heart—beating faster and faster. Her breath stuck in her throat. Her tummy felt empty. But she wasn’t hungry. She blinked again. “Mommy?” The word came out in a whisper. Even though the show on the TV blasted loud, an empty quiet blared louder. Nothing moved, everything stopped. Bea didn’t understand, but she knew. She didn’t guess what it was or how it worked. She just knew. She was alone. Again. Jerahmiel stood tall and majestic, just behind Bea. “Mommy?” Her tiny voice sounded small against the noise of the television. “Mommy?” She stood at the window, her nose against the glass, for a long time—in Earth terms. The glass fogged up where she breathed against it. He knew she was awake, but he also knew his tiny charge well and she didn’t stand still very long—usually. Today. This moment. This moment, he wished he could be that human and take her in his arms, sit down with her and hold her, comfort her. Jerahmiel couldn’t see the future, but he had a feeling that this little girl, this tiny human, would become someone to reckon with as she grew up. He’d seen it before when tiny humans had sensed Father’s presence so intensely that broken limbs had healed and hard hearts softened. He thought of the many creatures that hatched from precious eggs. If someone had tampered with the eggs—even to gently hatch out the baby bird, chick, snake or fish—it would die. They had to do it on their own, building strength after each season of pecking or breaking forth. Peck. Rest. Struggle to peck some more. Rest. This little girl, little Bea, would need that season of resting, of healing, but right now, she needed comfort. Father. Sensing the Father’s presence, Jerahmiel opened his mind and heart to Him. Sweetness. Father’s love for his creation always brought him to his knees. Receiving His download now, Jerahmiel reached for Bea’s shoulders, letting the Father’s message and love flow through him to Bea. Her eyes flickered and blinked. A tear tracked down her cheek and onto her shirt. Tears. His own flowed now, down on to his robes. Such love. Such sweetness. Tears were a substance all their own. Salty. But the fragrance was precious, sweet, but not like flowers. Wholesome. He glanced down at Bea, again. Her tears were the sweetness of rain, of … there were so many earthly things. Her tears were the fragrance of Heaven.