Page 33 of Half Blind

“I take it back. I think I love you,” Lemon said, picking up her land line to call the Sheriff.

Wherever Jared Bane was headed, she prayed he arrived safely.

Chapter 11-Endearment

Jared Bane paced thefloor. He had been told to wait here in a small outer building, and he was waiting, but he didn't know for what. He'd arrived over three hours ago. Food was provided in the small workshop building in front of the home of the man they called the Archangel. All Jared needed and wanted was a fresh start. The work he did had soured his stomach, and he wanted to take it easy for the rest of his days, maybe get a small plot of land, grow some veggies, plant a fruit tree to make preserves in the Fall — nothing major.

A voice came through a speaker, making him jump. “There is an opening in the gate, walk through it. Stay on the path to the front door. Wait there until I scan and buzz you in.”

He knew the voice well. Speaking to the voice also meant making a few choices that may or may not benefit him. Owing the voice meant doing a thing he wasn't going to like. The last ten years had proven his assessment to be a truth.

“Roger that,” he said, following the instructions. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he exited the small workshop where it looked as if classes or a book club were held by a woman who did crafts. “Maybe it's his wife's business.”

Jared followed the path to the home and stood on the front porch. A white light scanned him, then the door buzzed. He fisted and opened his hands before turning the knob to enter the home, which was filled with the scent of baking and another smell that reminded him of the rub his mother used when her knees were aching.

A woman, fair in skin with jet black curly hair appeared. She offered him a smile. “Hello, Mr. Bane; please follow me to the kitchen where he will meet with you. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

He took a seat in the kitchen, looking at all the matchy-matchy items from cups to mugs and plates. The kitchen looked as if Martha Stewart had a yard sale and what didn't sell was given to this woman. It was then that he noticed a painting on the wall. An expensive painting. His eyes went to the furniture, noting the styles. “She's a collector of expensive shit.”

He knew her type. If it was numbered and there were only X amounts created, she had to have one. The items on the kitchen shelves which all matched were more than likely made by a blind monk who lived on the side of a north facing hill and included the wings of mites in their gestation stage or some other abstract bullshit. Suddenly, he began to question everything about his life which had brought him to this point.

A door opened and out stepped the man he'd come to see. Gabriel Neary hadn't changed much over the years. A grey hair here or there didn't alter his appearance, and the man looked as if he hadn't aged. In his left hand, he held a mug. On the right was a teddy bear, which he handed to the woman. She provided a kiss to his cheek and disappeared into the back of the home.

“Wife?”

“Yes,” Gabriel answered.

“You're a father now,” Jared said.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, coming toward the man who rose to greet him. Gabriel opened his arms, accepting the embrace the man was reluctant to give. As was his way, he provided a kiss to Jared’s temple.

“Still kissing people, I see,” Jared said.

“Still trying to save the world, I see,” Gabriel replied.

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