ANGELS AT WAR

CRICKET KARR AND THE ROCK STAR

CHAPTER 5

CRICKET

AND IT SHALL COME TO PAST IN THE LAST DAYS, SAYS GOD. THAT I WILL POUR OUT MY SPIRIT ON ALL FLESH; YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHESY, YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS, AND YOUR OLD MEN SHALL DREAM DREAMS (Acts 2:17)

            Querida came to me in dreams. When he did such, it was in an angelic form, albeit mostly veiled, and he called himself only Querida. It was his voice that was distinctive. Clear and melodious, comforting, strong, and soothing, like a rippling brook.

            The couple times I think I met him in person, it was the voice that made me wonder, is this Querida? When I encountered him in my dreams, he always announced himself. Every time I was instructed to minister to someone in need. Every time the situation turned out to be real. Every time he gave me scripture to look up. The day after Sully Sage arrived in a Lear jet was no exception.

            That night Querida came to me in a dream. It was as if he were standing in front of my open bedroom window. A breeze was blowing the curtains and obscuring the white glow of his form. He said, “Behold, he stands with a pale horse and death and hades follow him. Go, give him the words of life.”

            “Who stands with a pale horse?” I asked. “Do you mean Ivory Bell?”

            Ivory Bell was Violetta’s beloved light colored Palomino mare.

            “He who metaphorically used to ride a white horse wearing a crown, conquering and to conquer, now stands with a pale horse, contemplating death.”

            “Don’t you mean sits on a pale horse?”

            “Like I said, I’m metaphorically speaking, just borrowing from Revelation chapter six,” he replied, specifically using parts of verses two and eight.

            “What does this mean?”

            “Go to Sully Sage.”

            “Where?”

            “Your aunt and uncle’s farm.”

            “When?”

            “Now.”

            His word NOW was like a snap of the finger. I sat bolt upright in my bed; my nightgown slightly damp with sweat. My window appeared the opposite of my dream. Whereas my dream had it open and the curtains blowing, reality had it closed and the curtains drawn. Dawn’s sunlight streamed between the sides of the curtains.

            I looked at my clock, and it read five minutes before six. I dressed, ate a quick breakfast and headed to my cousin Callie’s family farm. Jeremey, Callie’s fiancée, lived on an acreage right across the road. That’s how the two met. Friendly neighborly banter quickly turned into a special chemistry leading to romance.

            My Auntie Emma and Uncle Walt’s farm had been my grandparent’s homestead at one time. As a matter of fact, Grandma still lived with them. So I was very familiar and welcome there. Grandma was sitting on a bench swing on the front porch reading her Bible. Her eyes rose in surprise as I climbed the five steps in front of the renovated farmhouse. “What are you doing here so early, Dear?”

            I bent down and kissed her check. I refrained from saying that I was on a mission from God. Instead I told her, “I woke up early and felt compelled to see the horses.”

            “Oh dear,” Grandma frowned. Then with a conspiratorially low voice, she said, “That strange young man staying with Jeremey just asked if he could go into the horse barn. He told me he used to have horses. Why don’t you sit and, how do you youngsters put it? Hang out until he leaves.”

            I marveled that Sully was in the horse barn, even though I never doubted Querida’s messages in my night visions.

            “It’ll be okay, Grandma. I’ve met him, and I’ve already talked to him a little bit about God. I’m hoping to share some more.”

            Grandma was all about sharing her faith. “Well then by all means go. I’ll be praying for you, Dear.”

            “Thank you Grandma.”

            I don’t know why I behaved sneakily. But I slowly opened the horse barn’s door and winced when it squeaked a little. But in the early quiet morning, a little was a lot. Just as Querida had said, Sully stood in front of a pale horse, Violetta’s beautiful light colored palomino Ivory Bell.

            With the noise of the door, Sully turned to look at me. I was surprised to see tears running down his cheeks. The thing that took me off guard was his being alone, gently stroking the nose the horse in front of him, and weeping.

            Violetta had shown me a video of Sully singing one of his songs live. It was a heart wrenching rendition of dark and depressed lyrics with loss, but ending with a tiny glimmer of hope. His voice was deep, powerful, but anguished. Yet his face was stone cold, his eyes were dry.

            I had a lump in my throat as I listened and watched the video. My eyes were welling. When I glanced at my sister, her eyes glistened. But she chewed her lip, fighting back any more moisture coming to her windows to the soul. So I was amazed that Sully could sing so emotionally, yet appear emotionless.

            I opened my mouth to speak. What words were to come out I don’t know because Sully spoke first as the sleeve of his t-shirt assisted with eliminating the fluid from his cheeks. “Man, my allergies! Lots of hay and dust in here.”

            “Yes, high pollen count right now, too,” I added, feeling compelled to help him save face with his embarrassment. My own allergies were in fact affected by the pollen.

            “Yeah, boy,” he said, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

            “Yes indeed,” I said, and feeling awkward, I mimicked his gesture of hands in back pockets by jamming my hands into mine as well.

            “Beautiful sunrise,” I said after several seconds of uncomfortable silence.

            “I suppose so.”

            “Out for a morning stroll?”

            “Something like that,” he said. Then he looked at Ivory Bell, then back at me, and then back at the palomino. “I saw a woman riding her this morning out of my bedroom window. The sight of it reminded me of… something.”

            “What kind of something?”

            He looked at me with a concerned expression, as if he was wondering if he could trust me with a secret. He attempted to change the subject. “So, Callie lives here with her parents?”

            “For the time being. Jeremey proposed not long after she graduated from college. So she figured she might as well keep living here until they tie the knot and move in together.”

            “That nice old lady on the porch, surely that’s not her mother?”

            I found it interesting he called her a nice old lady, and Grandma referred to him as a strange young man. Although she did so not mean spiritedly. “Her grandmother. Mine too. She lives with my Aunt and Uncle as well, which would obviously be Callie’s parents.”

            “I see. Do you know who was riding this horse?”

            “It had to be Violetta,” I told him. “That’s her side by side parked outside the barn since she only lives about two miles from here. And Ivory Bell is her horse.”

            “Oh,” he replied, pulling his hand off her horse’s nose as if it were hot.

            I giggled. “She’s not gonna care if you pet her horse.”

            He shrugged nonchalantly. “She clearly doesn’t like me, so I don’t want to take my chances.”

            “Trust me, she doesn’t dislike you.”

            “Could have fooled me.”

            “You just have to understand her.”

            “Okay, so help me understand her. Jeremey tells me she and I are gonna be paired up.”

            “Paired up?” I frowned. “Paired up how?”

            “You know, in Jeremey and Callie’s wedding the week after this. I’m a groomsman and she’s a bridesmaid. We’ve been paired with each other to walk her down the aisle together. You know, her hand on my arm and what not. So it would be kind of nice if she didn’t look at me like she wanted to vomit.”

            I didn’t really know what to make of all that. Was it significant? Anyway, Querida came to me in a dream instructing me to give him words of life. But I felt the need to understand his tears. I didn’t buy allergies. I also wanted to know what was behind SOMETHING. Sometimes to get people to open up, you need to share something of yourself.

            “Violetta and I lost our brother a few years ago,” I told him. “She’s been pretty bitter ever since.”

            “Jeremey mentioned something about Callie having a cousin who died,” Sully acknowledged. “I’m sorry. How did he pass away?”

            “It’s complicated, but it was ruled a suicide. Personally, I suspect an accident, but Violetta believes it was murder.”

            “Who does she think murdered him?”

            “I’m not gonna say who she suspects, because that’s all it is, her suspicion.”

            “Could she be correct?”

            “Yes, it is possible, but not likely. Like I said, I believe it was an accident. Or maybe negligence would be a better description. He was quite intoxicated.”

            “Can I ask how he died?”

            “A running car in a closed garage.”

            “I see.”

            “Our brother was bullied because some people, mostly popular jocks, thought he was gay.”

            “Was he?”

            “I don’t know, he never talked to me about it. But there was an incident that got him labeled as such. But when he talked to me about that, he said it was something that never happened, It only looked like something happened.”

            He opened his mouth to ask me about the something with my brother. But I asked him about his something with Ivory Bell first. I was quicker at the verbal exchange. “Can you tell me about the SOMETHING when you saw a woman on Ivory Bell?”

            He shrugged, yet eyed me a little cautiously. “My wife… I mean my former wife… Actually, you see, I was married; but Poppy, my wife was killed in a car wreck a couple years ago.”

            “Yes, I was aware of that. I’m so sorry.”

            He nodded. “She always wanted a pony or a horse as a girl. When I, ya know, made the big time so to speak, I bought her a couple. They both looked similar to Ivory Bell here. When I saw the woman wearing a running outfit riding out there, it felt strange.”

            “I’m sure it was Violetta,” I said.

            He nodded, but his expression showed distaste. I perceived it had to do with Violetta reminding him of his wife. It seemed the resentment, animosity, or whatever it was between them, was mutual.

            “For some reason Poppy liked to wear running attire when she rode, even though I bought her actual horse riding outfits. Then when I saw, you know… Violetta…”

            “Violetta frequently likes to go for a run right after a horseback ride.”

            “I see.”

            “Can I ask you something about a song of yours?”

            He arched an eyebrow. “You listen to my music?”

            “No, not usually,” I said. But before I could continue, he started laughing. “What?”

            “You are so genuine, Cricket. Have you ever told a lie?”

            I bit my lip and looked at the rafters. “I don’t recall a lie I’ve told off hand. But I don’t want to tell you I haven’t, only to have the Lord bring one to mind I need to confess.”

            “You fascinate me,” he said, then picked up a nearby bucket, turned it upside down and sat. “I figured you were a Christian right off the bat. Not just in name only either. My Poppy became a Christian a couple months before your Lord let her be violently killed. She supposedly gave her life to Him… So let me ask you something. Where was God when a drunk driver plowed into her car?”

            I felt his pain. So I didn’t try to hide a tear that leaked from my eye. “The same place He was when His Son sweat great drops of blood, was violently beaten, whipped, spit on, and nailed to a cross.”

            I could tell he was affected by my response. Which way or how much I didn’t know. But I would have to wait to find out as a familiar voice interrupted our dialogue.

            “Cricket, are you in there?” Violetta said as the walk in barn door opened. Violetta entered, wearing dark blue stretch pants with matching sports bra. A baseball cap was backwards on her head while her face and arms were slick with sweat as she returned from a run.

            “Good morning, Sister,” I greeted cheerily.

            “Morning,” she said with a little smile. “What are you doing out here so early?”

            No sooner had she said that when she spotted Sully sitting on the bucket. She stopped in her tracks, her smile evaporated and her eyes narrowed when she looked at his hand scratching Ivory Bell’s chest.