The Watchers (15 page)

“And you know how, sometimes in the best earthly songs, sometimes there's rhythms and melodies that barely belong together, and then at the song's peak they seem to bend toward each other and resolve in a harmony that's so poignant, it just snaps this little string in your heart? Well, these songs were like an ocean of those. As if all these people were singing their own individual, very different praise tunes, very serenely, very softly, except that instead of clashing with each other, a soft current was lifting each one up and mixing everything together into a blend that was so much more beautiful than the sum of its parts. Those kinds of exquisite resolutions kept weaving into each other, over and over again. And my heart kept aching at the sweetness of each one.

“I kept wondering if this music was being lifted toward me and my companion as we flew over. I was never sure exactly. But I was highly aware that the presence behind me was the object of all this adoration. Again, it's so hard to describe how, except I sensed almost physically that all this love was gathering, concentrating, on a point just behind my back. And what flowed out from Him in return—in some ways I couldn't even
look
at that emotion through any of my new ethereal senses. It was so powerful, so pure. But just let me say that it was joy—joy more intense than an industrial-strength spotlight, pouring into my face.

“Would you believe that wasn't even the coolest part?

“There was something else about this music that's maybe the hardest of all to describe. I suppose it would be best just to say it outright.

“I heard the sound of angels' wings. And it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard.”

CHAPTER
_
18

At this point, Abby leaned forward and her voice refused to convey any more words. Mara leaned forward too, her face shining with tears, and clasped Abby's hand. The handheld microphone held so tightly during the introduction was gone now, replaced by an intrusive handheld boom hovering like a bat just out of sight. With Abby's account halted, tiny sounds could be heard around her like the whirring of a tape recorder, the crew's breathing, and even an odd sniffle coming from Mara and some of those behind her.

Abby smiled and shook her head, taken aback by the point in the story where her self-control had chosen to run out.

“You all right, honey?”

Abby's lips moved, but the word
yes
remained mute upon them.

Determined to regain control, Abby righted her torso in the bed, sighed, and wiped her eyes vigorously.

“Okay, I'm ready. I'm almost through, anyway.

“I realize now how weird it sounds, and I have no idea why, after everything I've described, that it's the brushing of angels' wings that sets me off like nothing else. But the sound had a haunting, startling, and yet somehow peaceful quality I will never, ever forget. It was faint, and delicate, and it was totally clear in every second of the music. Somehow it formed its own melody and moved in its own soft rhythm. And even though it didn't stop for a moment, it just went on with the richest variety of any piece of music I'd ever heard. For some reason I never felt compelled to look and see where exactly they were coming from. Maybe I wasn't convinced I'd ever find their source. You have to remember that just like with the songs and the music, there was such a gentle chaos swirling all around me that I'd given up trying to nail everything down. I decided to just let it all swim over me. Or maybe I didn't consider the sight of them near as important as hearing their presence confirmed for the very first time.

“Maybe the wings' motion was my own guardian angels' way of singing, of giving praise. Maybe it was their way of announcing me in a way, of ushering me into heaven. I'm not sure. Either way, that sound just stays with me. In fact, I just realized why.”

Abby broke away from her eye contact with Mara and looked around her as if she'd just arrived in the room.

“I know. It's because I've started hearing them
here
. Now. In this world. Just barely out of hearing, but more and more often, and clearer since my first vision. I hear them around those times when I catch one of those eternity moments, you know, one of those rare flashes when from out of the blue you get this mysterious little dose of pure joy or insight or encouragement. One of those little lightning bolts from heaven, when your darkest moment gets obliterated by something you just know comes from outside of you. Just then my ear cocks the slightest bit, all on its own. It does that because I've heard the faintest rustle, and my entire soul, my whole body even, leans toward the sound—what's that word,
keening
?—for it's like a good hunting dog leaning toward the sound waves of a silent whistle.

“I do know that right after I became aware of the sound, I started to descend. I'd been flying pretty high above this whole scene, you know. We started to turn back toward the gate. And as we did, I became aware of the actual streets of this city. And I know you're gonna start to doubt me here, or think I'm being way too literal. But here's what I saw—”

“No, no, Abby,” Mara interrupted, her eyes scanning a sheet of paper just handed to her by an assistant. The sheet, in fact, bore tracking information from real-time ratings and viewer response sources from all across the country. Mara's eyebrows rose.

She was impressed.

“Well, we kept moving downward,” Abby continued. “And with every second, each of these things got more vivid and intense. The light, the beauty, the joy. Then I saw the city itself.”

Abby turned straight into Mara's gaze, startling the diva from one more perusal of the ratings results. “Did you ever think the Bible meant it literally when it said that heaven would have streets of gold?”

Mara scrunched up her face like someone who hadn't given the subject much thought. “Uh, like most people I guess I always thought it was figurative language,” she replied. “A metaphor for great value, something of high worth.”

“Yeah, and although I'm not sure I ever thought about it directly,” Abby said, “if you'd asked me, I would have probably answered something like that too. But it's not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they're actually made of gold. I saw them. Paving bricks of solid gold. Only the gold wasn't this clunky yellow like I saw once in an old Sunday school comic book. It was a rich gold like solid honey, so pure I could see into each stone, and like the arch they glowed so beautifully that I had a hard time figuring if they were lit from some inner source or just reflecting all the light around them.

“And on every side stood these rows of the most incredibly cool, diverse, inviting buildings. Every shape and size and layout you could ever dream up if you went to architecture school for a hundred years.

“On these streets I saw a middle-aged woman walking, and I remember she looked up at me. I'd like to say she gave me a smile, only there was already one on her face. Even all by herself, while walking down the street, she was grinning from ear to ear. Seeing me only made her smile widen a bit more, as if her world was so crammed full of things to be happy about that she only had to turn her head to see another.

“Just fifty feet away stood this family who had just walked through the gate. I knew this because I had seen them greet each other a moment before. They were still celebrating, surrounding the newcomer, a woman in her early forties, clapping and laughing and tossing up praises to God. The young woman was absolutely boo-hooing with joy—I know because I listened hard to see if this would be the first sound of sadness or pain I would encounter here, only to find the weeping was completely blissful and euphoric.

“Her arms were clasped tightly around this other woman, who I guessed must have been her mother or her sister, because the two of them didn't look like they would ever let each other go. They had obviously been apart for a long time, yet the happiness of this reunion had wiped out any regret.

“And then we came even lower, Jesus and I. Then, just as I didn't think my sense of joy and wonder could possibly grow anymore, Jesus leaned forward and whispered into my ear, ‘This is just the beginning, my beloved. Just a preview of a foretaste of a beginning. I have so much blessing in store, Abby, that you could not even bear the knowledge of it, right now, if I showed it all to you.'

“Just as He said that, I realized that we'd stopped moving forward. We had turned, in fact, and were moving back toward the gate.

“And this question sort of drifted into my conscious mind.

“
So is this my time, or not? What am I doing here?

“ ‘I am with you because this is
not
your time,' He told me. ‘I have shown you this to comfort you. To give you the peace of knowing your homecoming will be a time of rejoicing. To give you the assurance that you have nothing to fear.'

“ ‘Are we not going all the way in?' I asked Him.

“I felt Him hold me tighter to himself, gently. ‘No, my dear. Not today.'

“And, Mara,” Abby said, “I can tell you that hearing Him say that was the single most heartbreaking loss I ever thought I would live through. At that moment, I would have chopped off a limb to keep going forward.

“But He just smiled and said, ‘My dear, I showed this to you for another reason, more important still. I don't want you to fear. You still have much to do, back in your life.'

“ ‘But I'm dying.'

“He pulled himself around to face me, and He smiled lovingly.

“ ‘You leave that choice to me, Abigail. I will tell you when it is time to come home.'

“ ‘You mean—?'

“ ‘I only mean this. You have nothing to fear. To live is a rich adventure. To die, for you, will be a joy beyond imagination. Either way, you are in me, and I have nothing but good things in store for you.'

“ ‘But please, don't send me back. Please?'

“He placed a great hand upon my shoulder, and His touch felt like an ocean moving through my body.

“ ‘You have a mystery to solve, beloved one. And the solving of it will save many, many beyond yourself.'

“ ‘Are
they
a part of this mystery?' I asked, pointing in front of me.”

CHAPTER
_
19

“See, we'd landed, if you can call it that, and just ahead, walking slowly out from under the gate's huge arch, was a group of about a dozen women. They were young and strong. Beautiful. I'd say
proud
, if you could picture a sort of pride that contains no trace of arrogance or haughtiness, but signaling a confidence in who you are and where you came from.

“As they walked, they stared at me with these odd, knowing smiles. I looked into their eyes and felt love settle in and just cradle me.

“ ‘Yes, these are the beginning of your mystery,' Jesus said.

“The woman closest to me, slightly ahead of the others, stopped and broke into a wide, glowing grin.

“That's when I noticed. The skin of these women glowed unusually bright in this light. And then something in my understanding sort of . . . clicked into place.

“It was because their skin was black.

“So black that it shined.

“Every one. Black, or brown, if you want to say it that way. In fact, it seemed each woman's skin color grew a shade darker from the first row to the last.

“ ‘Who are you?' I asked the first woman. That question may sound defiant, if you weren't there, maybe even impolite, but I asked it with wonder in my voice, grateful that I'd even been able to make a sound.

“She stepped closer, and I saw that her features were African. Her skin's lean, tight sheen reflected light like a sheet of glass. Her lips were full and rich, her nose bold and broad. Her whole face, eyes especially, had given itself over to this dazzling smile that seemed to reach halfway around her head.

“She did not answer, but from the warmth of her smile it seemed that she knew me. It simply wasn't the kind of a smile you give a stranger. Even one you're incredibly glad to see. Each face in that group wore the same expression. I could feel each of their smiles warm their way into my insides.

“Instead of speaking, the woman in front reached out her arms. At first, I started to think it was some kind of ceremonial gesture. But then it felt like an actual hand was pushing me toward her. Suddenly I was so desperate to connect with her that I thought I would drop dead of longing the very next instant if anyone prevented me from stepping into her arms—although I obviously had no idea who she was.

“So I did. I took one long stride and walked into her embrace.

“I had no idea what her emotion was coming from, but as soon as I felt her arms close around me, something new and huge opened up within me. The sense of reunion surged and just overwhelmed me. If someone had figured out how to distill the sense of coming home into some kind of elixir, then I was now swimming in it. I felt home in every sense—emotional, spiritual, physical. I felt like I'd turned some huge corner. Like a homeless orphan who'd just been handed an identity and a home and a sense that I belonged.

“At the same time, I became acutely aware that this made no sense. This reunion was supposed to happen between family members. I'd heard stories of souls being greeted at heaven's gate by what everyone euphemistically calls ‘loved ones'—one's family. Yet, in spite of all the emotions rushing through me, these were not my kin.

“Then Jesus spoke again, and obviously He'd been reading my thoughts. ‘This homecoming is different,' He said. ‘Your earthly mother will be here, although not for the reason you think. And the others you expected to see, you will not see.'

“ ‘Why not?' I asked.

“ ‘That is
your
mystery,' He answered in a voice so low that it almost sounded like a whisper.