As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange that reflect off the ice in a dazzling display, I start the process of closing up the trailer. The last customers of the day return their skates, their cheeks flushed and smiles on their faces as they recount their adventures on the ice.
I wave goodbye to the stragglers, watching as they make their way toward the warmth and light of the Christmas market. The smell of roasted chestnuts and apple cider drifts over on the evening breeze, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since this morning.
By the time I close up the trailer for the night, the full weight of what I’ve agreed to hits me. I’m going snowshoeing with Paige Henderson. Paige, who’s traveled the world, who’s experienced things I can only dream of. Part of me wants to call the whole thing off, to retreat back into the safety of my routine. To wake up tomorrow and go about my day as if this afternoon never happened. But another part, a part that sounds suspiciously like the boy who used to dream of art and adventure, urges me forward.
Four
WILL
The Celestial Garden stretches out before me, a tapestry of colors so vivid they make Earth’s most brilliant hues seem dull in comparison. Golden light bathes everything in a warm glow, and the air is filled with a sweet fragrance that reminds me of spring blossoms and summer fruits all at once. It’s a scent that should be overwhelming, but here in this heavenly realm, it’s perfect—just like everything else.
Well, almost everything.
My feet drag as I make my way along the silver pathway, each step feeling heavier than the last. The crystalline chimes of the nearby fountain seem to mock my mood, their cheerful melody a stark contrast to the dread pooling in my stomach. I’m searching for Henry, and for the first time since I started my guardian angel training, I’m not looking forward to our meeting.
I spot him near a cluster of shimmering trees, their leaves a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colors. He’s kneeling by a bed of flowers that seem to sing as they sway in a nonexistent breeze. Even from a distance, I can see the contentment on his face.
For a moment, I consider turning back. Maybe I can figure this out on my own. Maybe I don’t need to admit my failure just yet. Even as the thought crosses my mind, Henry looks up, his blue eyes meeting mine. There’s no judgment in his gaze, only a warmth that calms my worries about talking to him.
“Ah, Will,” he says, his voice as gentle as the breeze that rustles through the garden. “I was wondering when you’d find your way here.”
I force a smile, trying to channel some of my usual enthusiasm. “Hey, Henry. Just thought I’d stop by and... you know... chat.”
Henry’s eyebrows arches slightly, a knowing look crossing his face. “I see. And would this chat have anything to do with your recent visit to Earth?”
“Maybe,” I mumble, scuffing my foot against the pathway.
Henry pats the ground beside him, and I sink down, the grass beneath me softer than any cloud. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”
I take a deep breath, the sweet air filling my lungs. It’s meant to be calming, I know, but right now, it just reminds me of how far I am from succeeding in my mission. “I messed up, Henry,” I blurt out. “I was trying to help Noah, to show him what he’s been missing, but I think I scared him off for good.”
Henry nods slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. “And how exactly did you try to help him?”
I wince, remembering the look of shock and fear on Noah’s face. “I... I may have given him a flashback—a life review, really. I thought if he could see his past and remember his passion for art, it would spark something in him. But it didn’t go the way I planned.”
“Ah,” Henry says, and in that single syllable, I hear understanding and a hint of amusement. “A life review is a good tool to have in your tool belt. I’ve used that one—or a variation of it—myself with success. How did Noah react to this unexpected trip down memory lane?”
I hang my head, shame washing over me. “He freaked out. Ran away from me. I think I might have made things worse instead of better. He looked terrified.” Noah’s not a small guy. He has strong shoulders and a sturdy back. I can tell he works hard physically—maybe even hits the gym with his friend Sam, who knows his way around a protein bar. To see a guy so big feel so small was disheartening, to say the least.
Henry is quiet for a moment, and I brace myself for a lecture. When he does finally speak, his voice is as kind as ever. “Will, do you remember what I told you when you first started your training?”
I wrack my brain, trying to recall the countless lessons Henry has shared. “Um... always wind your pocket watch?”
Henry chuckles, the sound like distant bells. “While that is good advice, I was thinking of something a bit more relevant to your current situation. I said, ‘The path to someone’s heart is rarely a straight line, and it’s never one we can force them to walk.’”
I nod slowly, the words coming back to me. “I wasn’t trying to force Noah. I just wanted to help him see what he loves and go after it.”
“I know your intentions were pure,” Henry says, reaching out to pat my shoulder. His touch is warm and comforting, like sunlight. “But sometimes, in our eagerness to help, we overwhelm.” He leans back. “I remember this one fellow—my final assignment—I gave him a life review with a twist.”
I sit up taller. “A twist?”
“Yeah, showed him what the world would be like if he’d never been born. I thought—well, at the time, it seemed like a good idea, and it all worked out in the end.” He frowns. “Not a lot of men or women can handle that kind of honesty. Try a gentler touch this go around.”
I feel a twinge of defensiveness. “But how am I supposed to help if I can’t use my gifts? Isn’t that why we have them in the first place?”
Henry’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Our gifts are tools, Will, not solutions. Think of them as... hmm... think of them as seasoning in a meal. Used sparingly, they can enhance the flavors of life. But too much, and you overwhelm the palate.”
I consider his words, trying to wrap my head around the analogy. “So... you’re saying I dumped the whole salt shaker on Noah’s life?”
