It Can Happen So Fast, or a Little Bit Late
"Will you read this?"
Tarah looked up from the shawl she was knitting to see Joseph standing excitedly over her, extended arm holding a few sheets of paper. With a soft smile, she graciously accepted them.
"Of course," she answered with a nod, setting her project aside. "I am pleased to see you making such progress."
"You and me both," he sighed, taking a seat on the porch steps, below where she sat on the swing. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, and dug a book of matches out of his jeans. Letting a cigarette dangle loosely from his lips, he struck a match against his thumbnail and held it to the tip, closing his eyes as he inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.
The past few months had passed in a similar fashion to this lazy spring day. He rose at dawn for a cup of coffee before a solid block of time spent at his typewriter, free writing whatever God had put into his head the night before. By mid-morning he was worn out, and returned upstairs for a nap, followed by a shower and lunch as he reviewed the morning's work. By late afternoon, he had a draft to show Tarah, who he'd come to rely on for fact checking and editorial input. Twenty years on Earth had tempered the fury she'd held as an angel; with each gray hair and wrinkle that had made an appearance, she had learned to appreciate the human experience.
More than ever, he was glad for her companionship. After the threat of the Apocalypse had subsided, Ana had gone forth into the world to fulfill her messianic duties, often accompanied by Lilith, leaving the house practically silent for days at a time. While he appreciated the lack of distractions when he was working, he was still, at heart, a social creature. In the years before, he would simply venture forth into the surrounding towns. But now that he and, more so, his daughter had become the focus of the media's attention, and the ten miles around the house had become the semi-permanent residence of an ever-growing number of pilgrims, anonymity was impossible to come by. So he spent his days and nights within the divine shrouding that protected the house from prying outside eyes. Had he been alone, he likely would have gone crazy, or worse; in this regard, Tarah was more than a simple companion.
She was his saving grace.
Naturally, Tarah had come to the same realization years earlier, when Ana was still a child. With Lilith gone during the days, and Joseph's intermittent lapses of judgment, it had often fallen to her to serve as caretaker, instructor, and playmate to the future messiah. Early on she had resented it; still new to being human, she had found most everything to be frustrating and loathsome. But before too long, she had begun to embrace her new life, usually because of Joseph's efforts to help her adjust. It hadn't taken long for her to see that, despite his many flaws, he had been chosen for a reason. The ability he displayed to truly understand the world, and the need he felt to set things right, endeared him to the former angel.
So it was that she gladly read over his work in the months following the receding of the storms. It was certainly a work in progress, but she was pleased that with each new day, his writing improved, the balance between substance and style growing ever more finely tuned. The present day's work was no exception; a proud smile grew with each paragraph she read. By the time Joseph had finished his cigarette and stood to go back inside, she had finished, meeting him at the door.
"A truly superb passage," she told him, handing back the papers.
He couldn't help but grin as he opened the screen door for her. "You think so?"
"Indeed," she affirmed, taking a few steps inside before she turned back to face him as he followed in her in. Her hand reached out to hold his.
"It is indisputable proof that the Lord made the correct choice by placing His faith and message in you."
"Thanks, Tarah," Joseph said, his self-satisfied grin becoming a grateful smile as he gave her hand a squeeze. "That means a lot, especially coming from you."
She answered him by placing a kiss lightly on his cheek. It was the first time she had ever shown him such affection, and as she drew back, their eyes met, each watching the other come to the realization. Tarah was prepared to be mortified by the look of shock she expected on Joseph's face; when it failed to materialize, she was left in a moment of uncomfortable uncertainty.
For his part, Joseph had been caught off guard, not by the gesture but by the realization that had come to him: Why hadn't she ever done it before? It had felt right, natural, as if she'd done it countless times before. He saw the rising doubt in her face, and knew that they had reached a critical moment faced by so many before. So he did what what felt like the next logical thing to do.
Pulling her in close, his free hand cupped the back of her head, and he kissed her in earnest.
Tarah looked up from the shawl she was knitting to see Joseph standing excitedly over her, extended arm holding a few sheets of paper. With a soft smile, she graciously accepted them.
"Of course," she answered with a nod, setting her project aside. "I am pleased to see you making such progress."
"You and me both," he sighed, taking a seat on the porch steps, below where she sat on the swing. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, and dug a book of matches out of his jeans. Letting a cigarette dangle loosely from his lips, he struck a match against his thumbnail and held it to the tip, closing his eyes as he inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs.
The past few months had passed in a similar fashion to this lazy spring day. He rose at dawn for a cup of coffee before a solid block of time spent at his typewriter, free writing whatever God had put into his head the night before. By mid-morning he was worn out, and returned upstairs for a nap, followed by a shower and lunch as he reviewed the morning's work. By late afternoon, he had a draft to show Tarah, who he'd come to rely on for fact checking and editorial input. Twenty years on Earth had tempered the fury she'd held as an angel; with each gray hair and wrinkle that had made an appearance, she had learned to appreciate the human experience.
More than ever, he was glad for her companionship. After the threat of the Apocalypse had subsided, Ana had gone forth into the world to fulfill her messianic duties, often accompanied by Lilith, leaving the house practically silent for days at a time. While he appreciated the lack of distractions when he was working, he was still, at heart, a social creature. In the years before, he would simply venture forth into the surrounding towns. But now that he and, more so, his daughter had become the focus of the media's attention, and the ten miles around the house had become the semi-permanent residence of an ever-growing number of pilgrims, anonymity was impossible to come by. So he spent his days and nights within the divine shrouding that protected the house from prying outside eyes. Had he been alone, he likely would have gone crazy, or worse; in this regard, Tarah was more than a simple companion.
She was his saving grace.
Naturally, Tarah had come to the same realization years earlier, when Ana was still a child. With Lilith gone during the days, and Joseph's intermittent lapses of judgment, it had often fallen to her to serve as caretaker, instructor, and playmate to the future messiah. Early on she had resented it; still new to being human, she had found most everything to be frustrating and loathsome. But before too long, she had begun to embrace her new life, usually because of Joseph's efforts to help her adjust. It hadn't taken long for her to see that, despite his many flaws, he had been chosen for a reason. The ability he displayed to truly understand the world, and the need he felt to set things right, endeared him to the former angel.
So it was that she gladly read over his work in the months following the receding of the storms. It was certainly a work in progress, but she was pleased that with each new day, his writing improved, the balance between substance and style growing ever more finely tuned. The present day's work was no exception; a proud smile grew with each paragraph she read. By the time Joseph had finished his cigarette and stood to go back inside, she had finished, meeting him at the door.
"A truly superb passage," she told him, handing back the papers.
He couldn't help but grin as he opened the screen door for her. "You think so?"
"Indeed," she affirmed, taking a few steps inside before she turned back to face him as he followed in her in. Her hand reached out to hold his.
"It is indisputable proof that the Lord made the correct choice by placing His faith and message in you."
"Thanks, Tarah," Joseph said, his self-satisfied grin becoming a grateful smile as he gave her hand a squeeze. "That means a lot, especially coming from you."
She answered him by placing a kiss lightly on his cheek. It was the first time she had ever shown him such affection, and as she drew back, their eyes met, each watching the other come to the realization. Tarah was prepared to be mortified by the look of shock she expected on Joseph's face; when it failed to materialize, she was left in a moment of uncomfortable uncertainty.
For his part, Joseph had been caught off guard, not by the gesture but by the realization that had come to him: Why hadn't she ever done it before? It had felt right, natural, as if she'd done it countless times before. He saw the rising doubt in her face, and knew that they had reached a critical moment faced by so many before. So he did what what felt like the next logical thing to do.
Pulling her in close, his free hand cupped the back of her head, and he kissed her in earnest.