Page 14 of Sorrow & Strangers

Al,

Uriel came to see me. I’m going to go to Eden for a couple of days. I think it might help me a little. Please don’t worry about me. Enjoy the space.

~S

I push the notepad to the center of the table where I know she will see it, and look at Uriel. He smiles warmly and says, “Why don’t you go pack and we can head out?”

I shift nervously, suddenly afraid to let him out of my sight. “You will stay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Pain and sorrow flare in Uriel’s eyes, followed quickly by warm assurance. “Of course, Summer. I will not leave without you. We are going home together.”

I nod and hurry upstairs to pack, carelessly shoving clothes and toiletries into a bag. It doesn’t really matter what I have. I just want to be somewhere else, and everything inside me is telling me to go with Uriel. And if we get to Eden and they all turn on me . . . good.

When I walk back downstairs, Uriel is just finishing writing his number on the note for Alice. He smiles at me, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, I can see that he is relieved that I am going with him. I don’t understand it, but it warms something within me.

“Ready?” he asks, holding his hand out. I nod and place my hand in his. We walk through the living room, and my eyes catch on the flowers on the coffee table, as they do each time I pass through. Pain slips through me, and I swear the halo on my wrist hums softly.

Outside, Uriel somehow juggles my bag and effortlessly swings me into his arms. “Hold on, kiddo,” he says before launching into the sky. Just like his sons, he flies fearlessly. The trust in his wings and his abilities is inspirational. His boys are the same, even Rafe. The few times I’ve seen Rafe fly, he’s been so at ease. His wings may not be white and cared for like his brothers’, but he soars through the sky effortlessly.

Uriel holds me in his arms, and I feel safe. Not as safe as when I was in Connor’s arms, but paternal affection radiates from him. Or I’m guessing that’s what it is. I’ve never felt it before.

Uriel moves a little faster than his sons, probably thanks to centuries of training, and I just watch his wings as we fly. They are gilded, incredibly beautiful, and as mesmerizing as Connor’s. My heart squeezes with the memory of running my fingers through his feathers and hearing him purr in contentment.

“I didn’t warn your mom, so we gotta move fast before she faints.” I can barely hear his words over the roar of the wind. Did he say mom? Surely not. Uriel may be happy to see me, but Farrah hates me. She has to, yet even knowing that, I can’t wait to see her.

Neither of us says anything else, and I close my eyes and allow myself to sink into the security of his hold as we fly through the sky. His landing is gentle and clean, and I look up as he sets me carefully on my feet. I am a little surprised to see the elevator. I know Uriel can land directly at the house, but he clearly wants to give me a little more time. Or perhaps he is trying to give Farrah a bit of notice that someone has arrived, so she doesn’t faint.

We step into the elevator, and I focus on steadying my breathing as the doors close. The memories this small space holds are jagged, slicing at me and leaving thousands of tiny cuts on my soul. I didn’t visit the house when we came for the funeral. I couldn’t. The last time I was in this elevator, I was with Connor. I remember the tension as Luke fumed about leaving his mother.

My heart speeds up in my chest as the elevator stops. The doors open, and everything comes to a complete stop. The house looks exactly the same, and ‌part of me is surprised. I’m not sure what I expected. I think I was prepared for it to echo with the same emptiness that filled Morningstar House on campus. Yet it doesn’t. I can still feel love radiating from within the home. The Morningstar charm remains even after their loss. The love imbued within the family endures, emanating like sunlight through a kaleidoscope, fractured but still warm and inviting.

“Welcome home, kiddo,” Uriel says, his gaze pressing against my profile as he lifts my bag higher on his shoulder.

Nausea churns in my stomach, and I tug nervously on the sleeve of my sweater. Farrah is in there. The warmest, most beautiful soul I’ve ever known is in there. Can I take it if she hates me? Can I take her despair?

Uriel slides his hand into mine and lifts it, letting my sleeve fall back to reveal Connor’s halo wrapped snugly around my wrist. It glints brightly in the pure, warm light of the sun. He taps his halo against mine, and they hum, resonating with each other.

“Family,” he says, and I meet his sky-blue gaze.

My eyes sting, but in my periphery, I note movement coming from the house. My gaze swings toward it, and I see Farrah Morningstar watching me. Her dark brown eyes are fixed on me, pinning me in place. I can tell she is surprised to see me, and her eyes shift to Uriel for a moment, a question in them. I’ve seen them do this often, communicating in a way that can only be achieved by being with someone for so long that you know their every thought and expression.

She looks back at me, and a tear finally escapes. The small drop of moisture tracking down my cheek is filled with so many emotions that not even I can identify all of them.

Please don’t hate me. I want to scream it. I want so desperately for it to be the truth, but she’s giving nothing away.

“Your mom is waiting to hug you, Summer,” Uriel says, releasing my hand.

I see Farrah’s face crumble and her shoulders hitch with a sob, her beautiful eyes swimming with tears. Suddenly, the space between us feels too great. I glance up at Uriel, unsure.

“Go on,” he says, his eyes bouncing between Farrah and me.

Farrah sobs out my name, the word coated in maternal anguish and loss, but founded in the purest love and hope. I whimper and launch into a run as she jumps off the porch and sprints toward me. The ground is swallowed between us, and I am suddenly wrapped in the warmest hug‌ I’ve ever experienced. I can already feel myself breaking in a whole new way, and I cling to her. She strokes my hair as she holds me close, holding me as if she will allow nothing in the world to separate us, holding me as only a mother could.

“Welcome home, Summer,” she whispers brokenly.

Uriel wraps his strong arms around both of us and presses a kiss to the top of Farrah’s head. I’m not sure how long we stand like that, crying and hugging, but eventually Farrah pulls back. She braces her hands on my arms and looks me over, concern growing in her eyes. “My Summer.” She pulls me back in and kisses my head. “My girl is home.”

“Our girl,” Uriel corrects, kissing Farrah’s head again.