Triune Read online

  “Hey, you look good,” said the younger man, and Mike smiled a little more.

  “Feel pretty good. Edgy, gonna need a nap or caffeine later, but okay, considering.” He pressed his lips together and looked around as if everyone in the lobby somehow knew what he was. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, and led the way to the car.

  Once inside and on the way back to the studio, Brian spoke up. “Want to talk about anything?”

  Mike fiddled with a button. “Maybe in a minute.”

  The rest of the drive was in silence, Brian’s mind wandering a bit, but as he drove into his usual parking space, something glinted in the alleyway behind the building and caught his eye. Once out of the car, he strode over and squatted to get a better look. Brows lifting, he tried to get up quickly to block his brother from seeing it, but Mike was right on top of him.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing, just didn’t know what something was in the alley. Come on,” Brian said, taking his arm to lead him inside. But Mike spotted the cylindrical glass shape and pulled away gently to have a look for himself.

  “Oh that’s just perfect,” he muttered with a sigh, running his hand over his face at the sight of the Archangel Michael novena candle, a tiny flame still burning in the red wax inside it.

  “Come on,” urged Brian softly, and Mike followed him inside.

  “That’s the same one as on that window,” Mike said, nodding at the life-size stained glass image with the red robes and flaming sword. “Who is it?”

  “One of the four archangels. He’s kind of God’s general. Divine retribution and all that, but also helps protect people, and sometimes helps them get to heaven safely.”

  “Huh.” Mike nodded, getting a little mesmerized in the intricate patterning of the feathers. Brian had been careful not to mention the angel’s name, and his brother hadn’t thought to ask, much to his relief.

  “Coffee?”

  “Already had some.”

  “Oh, right...” Brian cleared his throat and strode over to the broom closet, retrieving various brooms, dustpans and some heavy leather work gloves, handing a pair to Mike.

  “Don’t really need ‘em,” he said with a little chuckle.

  “Still hurts when you get cut, though, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” Mike had to admit, taking the gloves and putting them on. Brian pulled over a large metal trash can and a padded rolling cart.

  “Okay, keep anything larger than about three inches, because sometimes I need small pieces. Everything else, well...” he trailed off with a sigh.

  “Sorry,” said Mike, wincing again at the damage he’d caused.

  “No, hey, it’s not like you did it on purpose. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. You told me you have a lot of antique glass in here. Or had.”

  Brian blinked at him a little. “How did you remember that?”

  “I read your emails about a hundred times,” Mike replied with a smile. “Every one meant so much to me. Word from home, word from my brothers. Of course you wrote me way more than Barrett did.” He started pulling larger pieces of glass out of the rubble and placed them carefully on the cart. Brian smiled.

  “Thanks,” he said softly, joining his brother.

  “For what? For reading your emails?”

  “No, for actually caring about what I do.”

  It was Mike’s turn to blink at his younger brother for a moment, then he nodded a little, understanding. Barrett was usually so caught up in his own stuff that he failed to notice or remember details about other peoples’ lives.

  “It’s interesting. And beautiful. It’s incredible, what you can do.”

  Brian looked up at his big brother with surprise. Such gentle words of praise coming from a man who had been through war and now...

  “Not as incredible as you,” Brian said softly. Mike blushed and busied himself with the glass rescue job. They both knew exactly what he meant, and they simply worked quietly together for a long time, sorting usable glass from the rest of the debris.

  “I think... I think I’m okay with this, kind of,” said Mike at last. He stood up and cracked his back, then looked around at the windows filling the western wall of the old brick building. A landscape of orange California poppies hung next to a pane depicting St. Peter holding the keys to heaven, next to that an elaborate peacock, and next to that an angel with luminous white wings in a sky blue robe healing someone with his touch.

  “Who’s this one?” he asked. Brian looked up and nodded.

  “I think it’s Raphael, but I’m not sure. If it is, he’s another archangel. A healer, see?” He strode over and pointed at the familiar pane where the hand-painted details showed the graceful hands touching an injured woman who was laying on the ground. “Iconography’s not quite right on this one, though, that’s why I’m not sure who it is.”

  Mike nodded. “Well, you know a hell of a lot more about this stuff than me. Impressive.”

  Brian chuckled. “You get familiar with all this stuff when you work on church windows all day long. Hey, how about a soda? Or juice? I think I have some orange juice.”

  “Ice water would be great, if you have any ice cubes. Hey, what time is it?” Just then, Barrett’s car drove up and they laughed. “Barrett time, apparently.”

  “Apparently. Let him in while I get us both some water.”

  Mike grinned and nodded, opening the door for their older brother.

  “Hey, you look like a new man,” said Barrett, clapping him on the shoulder as he entered. “Shirt suits you.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said with a little wry smile. Of course Barrett would think that – he’d picked it out. “Bri’s getting some ice water, you want any?”

  “Sure, sounds good. Then there’s some waffle house or something he wants to take us to.”

  “Walking distance,” called out Brian, coming into the room with three glasses of ice water, anticipating that Barrett would want some too. He did, in fact, and sipped it as he inspected their clean up efforts.

  “How much is going to cost to replace all that stuff?” he asked. Brian shrugged.

  “Haven’t really checked out what’s left. Some of it’s antique stuff, so...” He cut himself off, realizing that if he went on about how some of the glass was irreplaceable, it would only make Mike feel bad. “Why, are you offering to help?”

  “Sure,” Barrett said. “But what about insurance?”

  “Does it cover acts of God?” Mike said with little snort. He couldn’t help but smirk a little at his own joke, even if he tried to suppress it. Brian grinned at him.

  “Sort of. I don’t think this kind of thing counts, though. So... waffles?”

  “Waffles,” said Barrett, and held the door open for them.

  Three blocks away was the little café, their local claim to fame being unusual waffles and pancakes, such as gingerbread, orange cranberry walnut, banana pecan, and carrot cake with a thin sour cream icing one could drizzle over them like syrup. While waiting to be seated, Mike found himself looking at the whiteboard listing the day’s desserts, one of which was angel food cake. Ironically, he didn’t like angel food cake.

  “Mike..?”

  “Sorry, what?” He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked around, his brothers being led to a table. He strode a little faster to catch up, and soon they had ordered and were waiting on their tea.

  “So after this, what do you want to do?” asked Brian. Mike had a pretty good idea what he was getting at, and chewed on the inside of his lip.

  “We’ll take a little drive.”

  Brian grinned, a little thrill going through him. Mike seemed unsure but mostly all right. Barrett glanced between them.

  “I woke up this morning, and that feather was on my night stand,” he said in a low voice. Mike said nothing, but looked like he wanted to say a million things. He merely kept chewing on his lip, wondering where Barrett was going next. “And I can’t tell if I’m glad it
was there, or wish I’d never seen it.”

  “I know what you mean,” Mike said quietly, looking down a little.

  “Especially if we’re all...” The waitress came with their tea, Barrett a little relieved at the interruption and excuse to busy himself for a few minutes.

  “But will we know? What’s going to happen?” said Brian, not that interested in making tea. “Because...” He looked between them, then closed his mouth and blushed a little.

  “You want it to be real. You want it to happen for you too, don’t you,” said Mike. Brian looked into his eyes and nodded slightly.

  “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” he asked softly. Mike shrugged.

  “I just... I just did.”

  Barrett licked his lips a little nervously and sipped his tea. Both his brothers caught it, and he looked between them.

  “Well I don’t,” he said firmly. “I’ve got enough going on in my life without something like that. It’s crazy anyway. I mean... fully half my brain is screaming at me that I’m completely out of my mind, feather on my nightstand or not, and that everything I saw last night was only a weird dream. Maybe more than half my brain. Two-thirds at least.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Mike, leaning toward him. “Do you think I asked for this? That I would have if I’d been given the choice? Hell no. But... it’s there. I can feel it. I could do it right here and now in front of everybody if I wanted...” Barrett’s eyes widened and he looked like he was starting to panic. Mike held up a hand. “Well obviously that would be stupid, wouldn’t it. So after this we’re going to take a little drive, and we’re going to find some stuff out. Because, for one thing, I can’t handle the way you guys keep looking at me. I’m still your brother, not a carnival freak, thanks.” Barrett looked into his tea. Brian nodded, a little ashamed.

  “I didn’t realize I was doing that. Sorry.”

  Mike put a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “I know you don’t mean it, Bri. We’ll figure all this out together, okay? Please?” Mike’s look was slightly pleading.

  “Of course we will. Like always,” Barrett said softly, smiling a little.

  Waffles consumed, they all went back to the studio, then piled into Barrett’s car and started driving east, Brian giving a few directions to a secluded area in the desert without a building around for miles. The tires crunched to a stop in the gravel lot, and Mike realized his leg was jiggling from nerves. They got out and looked around.

  “Nice bit of desolation you got here,” said Barrett with a chuckle.

  “I could have done a serious faceplant in this stuff,” said Mike, kicking at the gritty dust under his feet. “I figured that’s what was going to happen when I was falling out of that plane. And do you know what I thought about?” They looked at him, shaking their heads slightly. “I thought about you guys, and how I wished I could have died more honorably.” A tiny smile flashed at one corner of his mouth, but was gone as fast as it came. He squinted at the mountains in the distance, and started taking off his shirt.

  “You don’t have to... do you want us to turn away or anything?” asked Brian. Mike shook his head.

  “No. It’s okay. If I can’t do it in front of you guys, what kind of wuss does that make me, right?” The little smile was back, more of an ironic smirk, and he balled up his shirt and tossed it into Barrett’s face. His old brother caught it with a chuckle. Then they looked at each other, faces turning more serious. Brian moved over to stand close to Barrett, and they waited.

  Mike nodded and closed his eyes. He dropped his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was so much easier to feel them now, waiting there inside him, physical yet not physical, connected to the core of his being. To the inner light that was his soul. His own personal connection to the divine.

  Like throwing open a pair of French doors to a spring morning, he let out his wings with a shiver and a breath. He heard his brothers gasp, and somehow felt them shiver as well. Mike opened his eyes.

  As he figured they would, they were staring at him wide-eyed. But there was something more to it than just what they were seeing. Barrett chewed on a lip, his arm around Brian, who looked a little faint.

  “I felt something,” breathed Brian. “Something... I dunno. Something inside, like... something’s starting. I wish I could explain it.”

  “You sure it’s not just wishful thinking?” asked Mike, studying him carefully in the harsh desert sunlight.

  “No,” put in Barrett, his gaze meeting his middle brother’s. “Because I felt something too.” The look on Barrett’s face told Mike to leave it alone. He simply nodded a little, then took a few steps backwards.

  “Don’t want to throw dust in your faces,” he explained. He stretched out his wings to their full span, getting a better feel for how they worked. Brian’s eyes misted up, his breath coming a little faster, Barrett sitting him gently down before he fell down. They sat together in the dirt, simply watching the phenomenon in front of them. The heavenly apparition. Their brother.

  Mike had experimented once or twice in the hotel room, almost breaking a lamp in the process, but getting to stretch them out to their full twelve-foot span felt amazing. Like getting to stretch ones legs after an overly long car trip. A little unsteady at first, but sorting themselves out.

  He backed up more and took a few experimental sweeps of them, noting with a hint of wonder that they seemed to know how to move as if he’d had them his whole life. Graceful, coordinated, strong. He folded them back, then out, then simply held them at a comfortable resting position, partially spread and loose.

  With a nod, he looked at them, something unspoken passing between them. Their lives would never be the same. With a muscular push of his legs and sweep of his wings, Mike took off.

  His new muscles strained, but it felt good. He concentrated only on gaining altitude, some kind of instinct taking over and helping his body know what to do. But it was more than that, too – he was nearly 200 pounds of solid Navy SEAL muscle and brawn, and his wings alone could never have pulled that much weight cleanly into the sky, or even gotten it off the ground. He could feel it. Other forces were at play and helping to send him aloft. Some kind of power of flight was combined with the wings, the two helping each other.

  He circled back around and carefully angled himself, feet first, near where he’d taken off. Years of parachute landings helped him touch down with only a little stumble and slide in the gritty dirt, his wings fanning and sweeping wide to help slow him down. He tucked them back behind, studying his brothers’ reaction. Barrett was trying to remain stone-faced but there was a light in his eyes. Brian was openly weeping, eyes wide with awe like he was five years old on Christmas morning. Mike put his wings away and knelt down with them.

  “You were...” choked Brian, but Mike pulled him into a tight embrace before he could finish.

  “...Beautiful.” whispered Barrett, much to their surprise. Mike blinked at him. A little slow smile started to cross their faces at the same time, Mike even letting out a small choking laugh.

  “I’m all scarred and messed up,” he said, starting to protest, but Barrett shook his head.

  “It’s part of who you are. Doesn’t matter. What we saw just now...” Then it was Barrett’s turn to fall silent. Mike bit his lip, understanding.

  “Must have been a hell of a thing to watch,” he said with a little chuckle. “Wish I could have seen it.”

  “Wish I could have been there with you!” Brian blurted out with a gasp. “It was... I’ve seen a real angel in flight...” He turned another shade paler and Mike gripped his hand.

  “I brought some sports drink, it’s in the car. Get it please, Bear?” Their older brother nodded and scrambled for the bottles, bringing them over. Mike opened one and handed it to Brian, who blindly drank some while Barrett stood over him to offer some shade, Mike still holding his little brother. It took another minute, but his color started returning.

  “Sorry,” Brian said
weakly, but Mike shook his head.

  “We should get back. It’s getting hot, and we’ll all be burnt to a crisp soon.”

  “Yeah... we should... we should get back...” Brian stood up shakily with Mike’s help, and stared at the road a little blankly. “We need to get back,” he said a little more firmly.

  Barrett cocked his head a little at his youngest brother’s odd behavior. He seemed a little dazed, yet focused on something unseen. Mike looked at him, a little concerned about potential sunstroke, and helped Brian get into the car. They all felt something needle at the back of their minds, however, even if they didn’t say anything about it to each other.

  Several miles back up the road, where it took a turn into the mountains, the road forked and went off into a narrow, steep track that some locals used as a shortcut to one of the swimming holes.

  “Turn there!” Brian said suddenly, pointing at the other road.

  “Turn? But...” Barrett protested weakly, but Brian gripped his shoulder. Mike looked at them and nodded, knowing that they all felt something, even Barrett, who did as he was told. Less than a mile down, they saw a pickup truck overturned down the side of the hill, a little smoke or steam or both trailing up from the engine.

  Before the car had even stopped, both Brian and Mike had their doors open and were scrambling down the hillside toward the wreck. Someone’s arm was hanging from the open window, gratefully still attached to the woman inside the vehicle. The same could not be said for the man who had been driving, who was obviously quite dead.

  Brian paled again, but focused on the woman, swallowing down a shudder. Mike checked her vitals, brow creasing with concern. Barrett tried to call out on his cell phone, but got no signal.

  “Gimme the phone,” Mike called up to him urgently, and Barrett tossed it down without a second thought.