Page 32 of Heaven on Earth

I stuffed the check into my pocket, trying not to look at the number Dad had written down lest I start worrying all over again.

We walked back to the clearing and I took the picnic basket from Mom. We headed back down the path, a little slower now that we weren’t hungry and eager to eat. When we made it to the library, I set the basket down outside. Mom was worried that someone might steal it, but I assured her that no one was going to steal an ugly old basket that I used to store video games in at college.

“After you,” I said, holding the door open for my parents.

The bell jingled and the Librarian glanced up, obviously busy with something important behind the counter, based on the pot of ink on the desk and the quill in their hand.

“Hello, Ryan,” they said cheerily, setting the quill down on a towel to catch errant drips of ink.

I smiled and nodded, hoping to get away from them as quickly as possible. I had no such luck, as they wiped theirhands on the same towel that the quill was on and emerged from behind their desk.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting either of you. Are you new in town?”

“These are my parents,” I explained. “They’re just visiting.”

The Librarian’s face lit up. “Ah, how wonderful. And you chose the library as one of your stops? I’m impressed.”

My mom and dad were clearly charmed by the bookish little fae, and any attempt I made to steer them away ended unsuccessfully. Fortunately for me, the Librarian avoided any mention of either Ciel or the matchmaking service. I wasn’t sure if they knew Ciel and I were no longer together or if they merely wanted to be polite, but I didn’t care — I was grateful either way.

“What were you working on with that beautiful quill and ink?” Mom asked, peeking over the front counter.

“Ah, I’m attempting to create something for my dear cousin’s birthday,” the Librarian replied, excited to tell someone about their more artistic exploits. “He’s an artist by trade, so my work pales in comparison to his, but I thought it might be nice to print his vows to his husband — they married last year, and writing is more my speed than any sort of art, so it made sense to combine the two.”

Mom and Dad both smiled. “That’s sweet,” Dad said. “You know, Rebecca, that might be fun to do if we ever dig up our vows from our wedding day.”

The Librarian nodded eagerly. “You should. There’s a bit of a learning curve to scripting, but I can assure you that the final result is well worth it.”

They held up their canvas and my heart lurched as I noticed the quill they’d been using. The feather portion of it was long and stark white, almost glowing, meaning only one thing.

Before I could ask the Librarian about it, the door to the library swung open and a pale, illuminating glow similar to the quill’s aura washed over the room.

“Ah, Ciel,” the Librarian said. “I’m so glad you came in today. I’ve been meaning to thank you for the lovely feather, and–" they stopped mid-sentence when they saw the look on Ciel’s face, his eyes trained on only one person in the room.

All the color drained out of my face. My parents looked back and forth between me and the angel, confusion spreading rapidly. The Librarian, sudden realization dawning on them, shrank back behind the counter.

The entire building grew still. Time stopped. Someone had to say something, and of course it was Ciel who spoke first.

“Hello, Ryan. Fancy meeting you here.”

24

CIEL

11/15/24, 10:34 AM

here

As I waited for a response from Ryan, or the Librarian, or someone — anyone — I took a moment to study the people he was with. They were clearly the same individuals in the photo he’d shown me, and there was no denying they were his parents. Both, with their jet-black hair and perfectly hewn features, bore an uncanny resemblance to their son.

They stared at me now not with contempt, but merely wonder. I suspected that this was their first time seeing a real, living, breathing angel — fallen though I was.

“Wait, so you’re Ciel?” Ryan’s father asked.

I looked nervously over at Ryan, who gave me the faintest nod of approval. “Yes, I am.”

“I thought–" the man looked at his son, brow furrowed.

“Ciel’s a man,” Ryan said, his voice shaking.