The Aedon Chronicles Magi's Cipher

By R. T. Bellknap

The Aedon Chronicles - Magi’s Cipher records the epic journey of four orphans to the faraway land of Aedon where they struggle to establish their place in this world and prevail over Magi’s curse before it destroys Aedon and them with it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. T. Bellknap
• Release date: Jul 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989705707

R. T. Bellknap

The inspiration for my novel came from my travels across Europe as a child, and my work with youth in the United States Pony Clubs and the Boy Scouts of America. My adventure incorporates European heroic tales, foreign cultures, and life with animals into the four teen’s coming of age story. I am a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI).

Book preview

The sun shone brightly on the courtyard of the Kingdom of Mythewoods’ citadel, Merlinnium. The mile-long yard held numerous statues and monuments honoring the kings, heroes, and victories of old. By mid-morning noises from the various activities around the quad overwhelmed the courtyard’s stone and metal inhabitants.

No one noticed the man as he purposefully entered the courtyard. Magi looked like every other man. His medium brown hair was cut in a common manner. He wore an old short robe and dusty leather sandals like most ordinary laborers. His muscular lean body was of medium build; nothing to cause other men to fear his presence.

In his right hand, Magi carried a metal shepherd’s crook. A metal wright by trade, he had hammered the staff from shimmering quicksilver. It possessed the strength of hardened steel with the lightness of aluminum. Something about the way Magi held the crook suggested that it gave its wielder unimaginable power.

Where Magi entered the yard, he could hear the metallic clang of sword and lance against shield reverberating off the monuments as the king’s army practiced various maneuvers, ever anticipating and hoping for struggles with neighboring lands.

A little further down the commons, Magi contemptuously passed by the slave traders bartering bitterly and loudly with buyers over the sad collection of men, women, and children tethered to the auction block with iron shackles. The offers and counter-offers screamed out by the greedy traders and callous buyers of the human cattle drowned out the poor slaves’ sobs and moans.

A bustling bazaar stood adjacent to the slave market. Vendors from the four corners of Aedon had traveled here to sell rare spices, jewels, finely woven cloths and carpets, and exquisite works of art. The chatter of the schemers inside the marketplace was, at once, deafening and disheartening to Magi.

When he reached the center of the courtyard, Magi looked slowly around at the citizens of Aedon. No one could imagine the torment tearing at Magi as he considered the command he had been charged to carry out. The deep crow’s feet around his eyes only hinted at the anguish he bore, knowing the vast suffering his actions would cause. At last he spoke, Citizens of Mythewoods, hear now my words.

The soft tone of his voice should have allowed only people directly in front of him to hear, but his words carried clearly to the ears of even those at the far ends of the square.

The Creator is greatly displeased with the way mankind has misused and squandered the great gifts so graciously bestowed upon you. As punishment, I set the lands to war against you. From this day forward, not only must you bear the brutality of your fellow man, but that of an unforgiving land.

From the ranks of the king’s guard, a mocking voice called out, All hail to Mythewoods’ high king – King Magi! All of us should be on our knees now!

Laughter broke out among the warriors. From the slave auction block, a voice comically chastised the Royal Guard.

Silence, stupid soldiers! Magi is not the king of Mythewoods, he rules over all of Aedon! All bow to King Magi!

Ignoring the ridicule now rampant in the courtyard, Magi lifted his silver crook and with it, slowly, deliberately, struck the ground five times. When after a minute nothing happened, mocking laughter broke out among the crowd.

Again Magi spoke out like a scolding mother. Blessed be the children which the world of Aedon outcasts, and who have everything taken from them, for they will be your one chance for salvation!

Immediately the land began to shake and tremble. Those that kept their eyes on Magi as they fell to their knees saw him vanish into thin air. The courtyard was suddenly filled with the terrifying sounds of stones shattering, immortal shrines collapsing, and screams of agony. Chasms in the ground ripped open, unfortunate souls tumbled in, and the ground snapped shut, burying them alive. The quake continued its ravaging rampage for nearly half an hour before silence crept in.

The battered and bruised citizens of Mythewoods slowly rose to their feet. They looked somberly at the destruction around them. Some tried to help those who were injured, while others consoled those who had lost loved ones. A few went to the place where Magi had last stood. Where his crozier had struck the ground, curious cracks had been created in the flag stones, forming lines of recognizable figures – falcon, warship, olive tree, stallion, wheel, eye, cobra, owl, panther, fish, crossed swords, rose, dragon, and setting sun. Surely the cipher in the stone explained how to undo Magi’s awful curse, but what did it say?

Chapter 2: Faith, Hope, and Trust

Part 1

Eager to reach the green pasture, the mares paid little attention to the young girl and boy trailing behind them. A shower earlier that afternoon had cooled the air and settled the dust at Cedar Cove Equestrian Center just outside Plymouth, Massachusetts. It was mid-June and a little warmer than usual for this time of year.

Come on, Nick. The boys and the ponies are already out. All we have to do is finish cleaning the stalls, put out hay and water, and then we can head home and get something to eat. What do you think Mrs. Peabody will have for dinner tonight? asked Emily as she busily continued her chores.

Emily Rose’s tall slender figure was dressed in faded jeans, a pale blue polo shirt, and brown paddock boots. Her bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and soft pink lips lent her a pixyish look that had caught the attention of more than a few of the boys at school. Not many boys came out to the barn though, so this served as a private refuge where Emily could be herself. She wore her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair tied up in a pony tail that trailed out the back of a Denver Bronco’s ball cap.

Emily loved the Bronco logo and had collected several caps in various colors. For the past few years, the Broncos had done very well early in the season, but had completely fallen apart when it mattered most. But the team had just drafted a quarterback with an affinity for the number 15, and Emily knew things were about to change for the good.

Quiet and a hard worker, the young teenager acted more mature than most other thirteen year-olds. With her mother’s long legs, Emily was making quick work of the trip from the pasture gate to the barn, forcing her brother to break into a run just to keep up.

Slow up, Em! Who are you racing tonight? Nick called out as he struggled to catch up. I think I saw Mrs. Peabody getting out some ground beef this morning, so it’s probably spaghetti or hamburgers for dinner, he huffed as he fell into step with Emily.

Nick Rose, Emily's twin brother, stood about an inch shorter than his sister. His sweat-covered baggy jeans, orange t-shirt, and worn paddock boots did not hide his athletic body. His sandy blonde mop of hair was stuffed under an orange and black Harley Davidson cap with a well-curved bill. One glance at his devilish blue eyes and impish grin left no doubt that Nick’s focus was less on finishing the barn work and more on reaching the dinner table.

Emily and Nick hung the longe whips used to herd the horses on a rack just inside the barn entrance. The barn was old, but had been well-cared for by Cedar Cove’s owner, Darcy Stone. It was made of rough-hewn oak and had been stained a rich honey-gold color. There were 120 acres of land associated with the barn - plenty of pasture to feed all the horses that made the old barn their home.

Earlier in the day, Nick and Emily had cleaned all but six of the stalls. Nick began his barter.

Em, if you’ll clean the last six stalls I’ll set out the hay for tomorrow morning and fill the water buckets.

Nick was getting the better end of the deal, but Emily hated dragging the water hose up and down the barn aisles.

You've got a deal, Nick! Just make sure that you clean out the dirty buckets. You know I’ll check.

Ahh, caught by the water bucket police again! You have trust issues, Sis, snorted Nick. Nick inhaled the fresh, green smell of the spring’s first hay mowing as he put two flakes of hay under the feed bucket in each stall. He then emptied and refilled the water buckets, taking special care with D’Artagnan’s buckets since he was his favorite.

Are you ready? called out Emily as she finished closing the stall doors. I’m sure Mrs. Peabody has dinner cooked and is wondering where we are."

The Roses’ house sat on a small farm about a half mile back behind the Cedar Cove Equestrian Center. Emily and Nick walked briskly across the east pasture and down the path that cut through the woods on the back side of Cedar Cove. The bright green leaves on all of the trees, various shades of red, blue, and yellow wild flowers along the path, melodious bird chirps, and the sound of the running creek on the left side of the trail brought a tranquility to the two teens as they made their way home. In every season, these woods seemed very much like the fabled Garden of Eden.

As Emily and Nick entered the back door of their home, the wonderful aroma of Mrs. Peabody’s cooking enveloped them. Claire Peabody was in her late fifties and her hair, typically tied up in a bun, was well salt-and-peppered. She came from old Pennsylvania Dutch farm stock and was no stranger to hard work around the house. Her arms and hands were strong and calloused, while her face and hazel eyes were soft and gentle. Her clothes were always clean and pressed, but very basic – a simple short-sleeved cotton blouse tucked into a long skirt and a pair of black pumps covering her feet. Claire lived by herself in a white clapboard house just down the road. Her dear husband, Henry, had passed away five years earlier. Since Claire and Henry were childless, the farm that had been in Henry’s family for generations was now Claire’s sole responsibility.

Claire had hired a couple of young men to handle the livestock and help with the crops, but she was determined to run the farm as Henry had shown her. With her husband’s passing, Claire had felt destined to spend her remaining years in tortuous loneliness. Then the Roses moved into the Hofstadter's old farmhouse and Claire felt her prayers had been answered. From the beginning, Walt and Wendy took in Claire as part of their family. Walt cut Claire’s grass and did odd jobs around the house. Wendy came over for a cup of coffee, at least twice a week, usually armed with a pan of homemade muffins. As far as Claire was concerned, Walt and Wendy were the children that she never had. So when they asked Claire to look after Emily and Nick while they toured the Middle East, Claire could not have been more delighted. For the past four weeks, she had reveled in being grandmother to Emily and Nick.

Claire heard the back door snap closed and called out, Is that you two barn rats? I’m just now putting the food on the table. Go wash up and come get something to eat. I have some news from your mom and dad, so hurry along.

The elderly woman, in her pink apron, was just sitting down at the kitchen table as Emily and Nick entered the kitchen. There was a casserole dish of Claire’s special meatloaf in the center of the table, flanked by a big bowl of red steamed potatoes, fresh picked green beans, and a tossed salad made from lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers out of the garden. The bowls were passed and soon all plates were overflowing. Claire then began her account of the phone call she had received.

Children, your mom and dad called this morning. Your parents said to tell you they’re headed home!

They’re coming home? asked Nick excitedly.

Yes! They said to tell you they missed you, but have had a wonderful time. The weather has been beautiful and all the people they have met have been so friendly. They have so much to tell you about all of the pyramids, historical landmarks, museums, and various archaeological sites in Egypt. Your mom was starting to tell me about a most romantic boat tour down the Nile River when your dad broke in about some huge discovery in his research project.

When will they be here? asked Emily.

Your mom said they would be contacting the airlines at daybreak to arrange a flight out of Cairo, answered Claire. Without scheduled flights, I imagine that it will take your parents a couple of days to make their way back home.

The two young Roses welcomed this news. Their parents had left on their Egyptian trip just before school let out. At one point, the siblings felt hurt when they were not invited to come along. But their parents’ trip gave their father time to work on his research project and time for a second honeymoon. Emily and Nick would have been a distraction to both of these endeavors. Besides, the thought of being away from their parents’ watchful eyes held exciting possibilities.

Did they mention anything about presents for us? laughingly quizzed Emily.

No, they didn’t, Missy, chuckled Claire. But if I know your parents, they haven’t forgotten about you two barn rats for one minute. I bet there’ll be quite a few bundles packed in their suitcases for you. And that being the case, we need to tidy the house up a bit before your parents arrive home. Cancel any plans you have for tomorrow afternoon. After we get back from Mass, the three of us are going to have an old-fashioned housekeeping party.

You’re an absolute slave driver, Mrs. Peabody, playfully groaned Emily and Nick in unison. The poor slaves that built the pyramids had it better than we do.

A quick glance at the twins’ supposed pained and distraught faces caused Claire to chuckle. Claire’s amusement was infectious, and moments later the three of them were doubled up with laughter, tears flowing down their faces. After finally collecting herself, slave driver Claire gave instructions to her young minions to finish eating, get a bath, and go to bed. Emily and Nick eagerly obliged after helping Claire clear the table and load the dishwasher.

The following morning Claire let the two youngsters sleep in. When they awoke, they hurried downstairs to a light breakfast of orange juice and blueberry muffins. Then all three hurriedly dressed for church.

On the drive to church, Emily wondered if they would see their parents today, as that surely would be the perfect end to a beautiful Sunday. Claire and Nick were in the front seat in their own little world, playfully bantering over how much housekeeping needed to be done that afternoon. As Claire pointed out, their mother would find it simply terrible to return from a romantic second honeymoon and step inside a messy house. Furthermore, Wendy and Walt would be sure to blame Claire for not keeping the house up and that was never going to happen. Claire’s list of chores seemed to grow by the minute.

But Mrs. Peabody, Nick interrupted, just consider how unneeded Mom and Dad will feel when they come home to a perfectly spotless house!

Laughing to herself, Emily silently leaned back in the seat behind Claire, choosing only to listen to her brother and Claire’s pointed negotiations. Just to see their parents again after all these weeks would be well worth a few hours of dusting and straightening.

Claire pulled into the church parking lot. Built in the late 1800s, St. Thomas had been a spiritual beacon to countless families and witness to much of the history of the area. The brownstone exterior gave the church a certain sense of immortality. The interior was richly adorned with wooden beams, pillars, and paneling stained an antique walnut color. The incoming rays of bright sunlight poured through four large octagonal windows on each side of the church. They seemed to restore life to the dark wood inside, filling the chapel with a warm glow that had nothing to do with it being the middle of June. The rich warm wood panels, bouquets of yellow and peach-colored roses positioned behind the altar, and the gold-trimmed altar itself imbued the church with an inviting grandeur. Though it had weathered more than a century, the building seemed young and alive.

Several of the pews inside St. Thomas stood empty as many parishioners were off on vacation. Claire, Emily, and Nick quietly took their seats toward the back of the left aisle, and each said a silent prayer containing hopes that the elder Roses would have a safe journey home.

The Mass that day caused Emily to think hard about her feelings. The gospel reading centered on a Canaanite woman who begged Jesus to destroy the demons that tormented her daughter. This story of blind faith stuck in Emily’s mind. She could only imagine the desperation that led this woman to search so far and wide for salvation for her daughter. She wondered how this grieving mother ever decided that her daughter’s one and only chance at redemption lay in the hands of a complete stranger. Was it true faith and trust that kept this woman at her task when the crowds kept turning her away? Emily hoped that she and her family would never be tested like the Canaanite woman.

At the end of Mass, Claire and her two charges stopped by to wish Father Patrick a good day and commend him on his homily. The muscular man standing in the vestibule in his green vestments was of medium height, with soft brown hair and a ruddy complexion. As always, Father Patrick was in good spirits, jokingly encouraging everyone to come back later that afternoon to watch the St. Peter’s Red Sox team lose their shirts in the church baseball game. Like so many of his Irish countrymen, Father Patrick enjoyed both his sports and his spirits. As pitcher for the Green Shamrocks, Father Patrick could throw a mean curve ball with either hand. The Shamrocks had lost very few games in the church league (which suited Father Patrick). When they approached, the priest embraced Claire in a big bear hug, causing her face to flush a bright red.

Well, Claire, am I going to see Emily, Nick, and you this afternoon at the field cheering us Shamrocks on to another victory? quizzed Father Patrick.

Still red-faced but with a big smile, Claire replied, Patrick, as much as we would love to, the kids and I have some major housekeeping to do this afternoon. Wendy and Walt are headed home!

Well, that is wonderful news! exclaimed Father. I'm going to let you off the hook today, Claire, but I expect to see all of you in the stands next weekend, cheering for us Shamrocks of course. Good luck with the housekeeping, but don’t work your fingers to the bone, eh Nick? Just be sure to tell Walt and Wendy to drop by my office with lots of stories of their trip. And with that Father Patrick moved on to greet other parishioners.

As they headed towards the car, Claire suddenly stopped short. Let’s have lunch at the diner down the street so we don’t have to cook and wash dishes.

Always ready for a new dining experience, Nick’s face brightened immediately. With a big grin on his face he announced, I love your way of thinking!

So it was lunch at Brooster's Tenders. A local favorite, the restaurant served the best chicken dishes in the area. Fashioned after a honky-tonk roadhouse, Brooster's Tenders had a warm, relaxed air. Each brightly polished wood plank table had a bucket of roasted peanuts sitting in the center. Servers wore khaki slacks and hunter green polo shirts with a bright red banty rooster embroidered on the left side. When their waitress came by to take orders, Claire asked for a blackened tenders salad with unsweetened iced tea; Emily chose a chicken quesadilla and a diet cola; and Nick put in an order for a dozen extra spicy chicken wings, Cajun fries, and a root beer. Tasty food, friendly service, and cheerful conversation made the trio’s lunch an enjoyable break from the pending chores.

When they arrived home, the three quickly donned their work clothes and began the chores. Within two hours the house was spotless. The floors had all been swept and mopped, the furniture dusted, clean linens put out, and a little cinnamon apple potpourri spread about so that the house had a delightful smell. A little after four, Emily and Nick headed over to the barn to feed the horses and do their assigned chores. When they returned, Claire had a light supper of grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches with a platter of fries ready in the kitchen. The children heard Claire in the den watching a television movie. The two young Roses filled their plates and carried them into the den to watch the movie with Claire. As they walked in, Claire looked up from her needlepoint project.

Ahh, I see you two did find something to eat, said Claire with a gentle smile.

This is great! said Nick. You have to be the greatest cook in all of New England, but don’t you tell Mom I said that. I see no point in having her question her cooking skills, if you know what I mean, Nick commented, his eyebrows raised devilishly.

With a shadow of a grin on her face, Claire softly shook her head and returned to her needlepoint. This was a project she had been working on for several months and was happy to see it nearly finished. The embroidered panel was a portrait of the Rose family. In the center of the panel, Walt and Wendy stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their inside hands lovingly clasped. Emily stood just in front of Walt with her dad’s right hand softly laid on her shoulder. Nick stood in front of Wendy with his head cocked just a bit to the right. The threaded figures of the four Rose family members were so finely stitched the panel looked like a photograph. Claire was now stitching her own figure just behind and to the right of Wendy.

While Claire was no blood relation to the Roses, there was no mistaking that this was her family. Her deft fingers, coupled with a huge array of thread colors, had stitched a family portrait of amazing color and clarity. Though each family member had at some point seen her working on the panel, no one had paid any attention to the piece’s theme. Strangely, Claire had not yet decided whether to give the needle point panel to the Rose family or keep it for herself. She prayed that as she inserted the last stitch, the project’s true purpose would become clear.

Emily ate a sandwich and a full plate of salted fries. This was more than enough to fill her up. She tried to get caught up in the movie, but the plot could not keep her attention. In the back of her mind, she knew she was fighting disappointment that her parents had not made it home today. When Claire had broken the news yesterday that their parents were coming home, Emily remembered all the fun times she had shared with her parents. With Mom those late night pajama talk sessions were a special time. Sitting together in bed drinking hot chocolate and wearing silly fuzzy slippers had forged a special bond between the two. It was their precious chance to talk about boys, share secret dreams, and develop solutions to seemingly overwhelming problems. With her father it was all about discovering and understanding the surrounding world. Dad had a special way of making those awful reading assignments bearable and allowing you to discover the cleverly hidden meanings and messages crafted by unyielding authors. She suddenly missed her parents terribly.

Realizing that she had no idea what the movie was about and that she preferred some time alone, Emily put her dirty plate in the dishwasher and went to bed. After slipping into her pajamas, she grabbed Great Expectations, one of her three summer reading books, and began reading. An hour later her heavy eyelids closed and Emily drifted off to sleep.

Everyone awoke early the next morning. After donning a pair of jeans, a pink polo shirt, and a Broncos ball cap, Emily grabbed her paperback copy of Great Expectations and headed toward the kitchen. Nick and Claire were already there. He had nearly polished off a fully loaded omelet.

Do you want something to eat? asked Claire when she saw Emily enter the kitchen.

No thanks, I’m not that hungry this morning answered Emily. I think I’ll just grab a glass of milk and read my book here at the table.

It was nearly two hours later when Emily thought she heard a knock at the front door. She threw a bookmark between the pages and ran to the living room. As she reached the door, she could hear Claire and Nick close behind her.

Just as Emily opened the door, Nick suddenly felt the deepest sadness he had ever known. He was not surprised to find three men – two state troopers and an official-looking gentleman in a black suit – instead of his parents. The men saw the three faces at the door fall – a sight they had seen often and hated each time.

How may we help you, gentlemen? Emily asked softly.

The man in the black suit stepped forward and asked, Are you the children of Walter and Wendy Rose?

Claire, stepping in front of Emily, answered the official in a quivering voice, Yes, they are. What is this all about?

Madam, my name is Harold Anjole and I am an agent with the U.S. State Department. Yesterday afternoon Egypt Air Lines flight 1507, traveling from Cairo to Heathrow, was hit by multiple lightning flashes after takeoff. The lightning compromised the aircraft’s guidance controls and the plane fell into the Mediterranean Sea at six twenty-two p.m. Cairo time. Walter and Wendy Rose were passengers aboard that flight. I’m sorry to report that no bodies have been recovered from the waters where the plane went down, so it is presumed that the crew and all passengers died in the crash.

Complete silence followed Agent Anjole’s announcement. The news itself seemed almost too improbable to be true. How could this happen? Obviously, three government officials had better things to do than drive all the way out to the Rose house to pull a prank. Thunderstorms in the middle of the Egyptian desert seemed most uncommon.

Nick broke the prolonged awkward silence by blurting out, What did you say, sir?

Knowing full well that Nick and Emily had both heard the tragic news, a shaken Claire took control of the situation. She pushed the children back into the house, stepped out onto the porch, and quickly closed the door behind her. Gentlemen, I’m Claire Peabody and the Rose children are currently in my care.

Harold Anjole stepped forward, leaving the two state troopers on the top step of the porch. I'm sorry, Mrs. Peabody. It's plain to see that the death of the Roses is going to have a huge impact on their children and probably the community. The two officers and I would like to offer our condolences for your loss. I am going to leave this official report with you. Someone will need it to initiate death benefits for the children. My card is also in the folder in case you need additional copies or information. Please do not hesitate to call me with any questions.

Agent Anjole and the two state troopers waited a few minutes for questions from Claire. When there were none, the three men quietly returned to the car. Claire stood on the front porch with both arms tightly wrapped around a small manila envelope, and watched the car slowly back away. Shiny rivulets of tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Her gaze was focused on the far horizon as though searching for something lost among the clouds. The raging struggle between the immediate need to grieve and the necessity of maintaining composure showed clearly in the pained lines on her face.

Part 2

Claire stood alone on the front porch for a few minutes. She needed this precious time to come to terms with what had just happened. Claire had not felt such sorrow since Henry’s death five years ago. Sadly she had missed the chance to tell Walt and Wendy how much she loved them and how important they were in her life. That opportunity would never avail itself again. She believed they knew how she felt about them, but desperately wished she could have spoken the words held in her heart. She would not make the same mistake with Emily and Nick.

Claire found the two children standing in the living room, hugging each other and shaking with sorrow. Tears fell from red eyes, as they turned to look at Claire.

Children, come sit on the couch with me and let's talk, suggested the elderly woman, as she set a box of tissues on the coffee table. She sat down in the center of the couch and clasped their hands as they took a place on either side of her.

First, I want both of you to know that I love you just as if you were my own children. Although we would all prefer this to be just a bad dream, everything is different now. I know your hearts are broken because mine is too. I promise you things will get better; you just have to give it time. I need to make some phone calls. Do you have any relatives that I need to contact?

Not that Mom or Dad ever told us about, answered Nick, wiping his eyes with a tissue and blowing his nose. We never visited any relatives. I don’t ever remember getting any mail or phone calls from relatives on either Mom’s or Dad’s side of the family.

Nick’s right. It’s always been just the four of us, and I guess now just the two of us, sobbed Emily as she blew her nose with a tissue.

The three of us, Missy, quickly corrected Claire with a soft smile.

While searching for contact information, Claire found an address book on the wooden desk in the library. A quick flip through the book did not reveal any names that Claire could associate with relatives. Then she began the painful ordeal of breaking the news of Walt’s and Wendy’s death. In more than one instance her voice broke during the announcement and she had to start over.

While Claire made phone calls, Emily and Nick retired to the backyard to sit together in the porch swing. With heads bent together and tears blurring their vision, brother and sister gently rocked back and forth in the swing. Words were unnecessary as each knew the other's thoughts. Their minds raced to recall and catalog those tidbits of family life together. Good, bad, sad, and funny - these memories were all they would have to carry with them into the future. Nick was the first to break the silence.

Em, you know when those men came to tell us about Mom and Dad? Just before you opened the door I had a feeling that bad news was coming – like someone had died.

Maybe it was just a premonition. We all have those sometimes, Emily answered as she wiped her eyes with another tissue.

No, this was different, Nick insisted. It was the worst feeling I’ve ever had and I could see Mom and Dad in front of me before you even opened the door!

Emily shrugged her shoulders as the twins again slowly rocked back and forth. Lost in thought, they did not hear Father Patrick’s entry. The cockiness and jovial spirit that normally defined the Irish priest was not present today. The man now standing in the backyard moved and spoke with a sad, troubled demeanor.

Hello, you two. I’ve just heard about your parents. While I can’t begin to imagine the emptiness and sadness that’s befallen you, please know that my thoughts and prayers are with you both. You must know that I considered your parents more than just parishioners. They were dear friends and I will miss them terribly. Is there anything that I can do for you?

After a thoughtful pause, Nick dried his face on his shirt sleeve and spoke up.

Yes Father, I have a question. You’ve said that God has a plan for all of us. Why would God’s plan for our parents call for them to die so young? Were Mom and Dad punished for something they did?

Surprised by Nick’s perplexing question, Father Patrick stroked his chin a few times, wrinkled his nose, and then pulled a chair in front of the porch swing.

Most excellent questions you have, lad. I am not God, and so I’m not privy in even the smallest way to the Heaven’s grand design for mankind. But I can assure you two, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that God did not punish your parents. Spiritual wisdom says that for every door that closes, another one opens. I believe that with the death of your parents, God created a new opportunity. Your job is to be on the lookout for that opportunity and grab onto it with every ounce of strength you have. If you fail to do that, your parents’ sacrifice will have been for naught. I promise you, God does have your back. Trust in Him and hold to the path that he lays out for you to follow.

At that moment Claire came out onto the patio to check on everyone. When he saw Claire, Father Patrick gave her a comforting hug. They talked together quietly for several minutes, before Father took his leave to address other pastoral duties.

Claire, since there is no one to bury, I thought a memorial service on Wednesday at ten o'clock would be appropriate. Can you come by the office tomorrow so we can work out the details?

Certainly, answered Claire. I’ll give it some thought this evening. She slowly walked Father Patrick to the door.

When the backyard emptied, Emily and Nick went back to swinging on the porch swing. While Father Patrick’s words would not be quickly forgotten, they did little to fill the vast emptiness in the two children’s hearts.

That evening Claire and the children watched the national news. The lead story of the broadcast centered on the crash of EAL flight 1507 and the loss of all lives on board. While no one said anything, each felt the tiny sliver of hope they had been holding onto slip away. Claire fixed a light supper since no one had much of an appetite. All three went to bed early, but spent much of the night sleeplessly staring at the ceiling.

The next morning, Claire insisted that Emily and Nick go to the barn for a trail ride. That’s exactly what your mother would want you to do. There’s no point in you sitting around this house moping. Now go on you two, and don’t come back until dinner time, said Claire.

The trail ride turned out to be a welcome relief from the sadness that had enveloped the house. The sweet smell of the woods, the chatter of wildlife, and the need to keep a lookout for low-hanging branches temporarily replaced thoughts of their parents. The barn was empty today, which suited the twins. Emily and Nick were not yet in the mood to talk about their loss.

When they reached the pond on the back side of the woods, they tied up the horses and swam. An underground spring fed the pond, making the water cool and refreshing. Dad had always loved to come to the pond on the weekends with them. As they floated in the water, they could almost imagine him in the center of the pond today, splashing jovially. For that reason, they stayed at the pond much longer than they should have. It was after four before they realized the time. They dried off, dressed back into their jeans and chaps, watered the horses, and took a shortcut back to the barn. Before heading for home they took care of D’Artagnan and Melody for the night as their mother had taught them.

Emily and Nick did not step through the door until a little after six that evening. When Claire saw their relaxed faces, she knew they had been in the right place. The children gobbled down Claire’s feast of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans from the garden. Afterwards, the twins watched some television while Claire worked on her needlepoint. Everyone was more than a little tired, but dreaded slipping beneath the bedcovers and falling back into the nether world of sadness and despair.

Claire and the children arrived at St. Thomas the next morning thirty minutes before the memorial service. In the pews Emily saw school mates, other children from the barn, professors and staff from MIT, neighbors, and a few parishioners from church that were close to her parents. Emily wished her parents could be here to see all of their friends pay their last respects. During the Mass, Father Patrick talked wistfully about the close friendship he had shared with Walt and Wendy Rose, and the void their passing had left in the community. More than once he spoke of Walt and Wendy looking down at St. Thomas from the gates of heaven – a vision that clearly satisfied Nick.

After the service, friends lined up to offer their condolences and help. As the line thinned, Emily noticed a couple of women at the end of the line she had never seen before. When the two women reached Claire and the children, they introduced themselves as Social Services caseworkers. The laws of the state of Massachusetts dictated that without family in the area, Emily and Nick were now considered wards of the state. With hardly a pause, Geraldine Allen, the older of the two caseworkers, rattled on that she and her partner had been sent by Social Services to place both children into the foster care program. The color in the young teens’ faces drained instantaneously. Life had just gone from bad to worse.

Instantly Claire stepped between the caseworkers and the children. With eyes blazing and bearing a fury any man would fear, Claire outlined the situation to the caseworkers with the utmost clarity.

These children are NOT wards of the state! These are MY children! I am applying to adopt both of them. Father Patrick and St. Thomas are assisting me in the application process. The only place these children are going is home with me!

Suddenly a gentle voice spoke up from the left.

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.

As all heads turned toward the direction of the voice, a young man dressed in a gray suit with a white oxford shirt, and a red paisley tie came into view.

My name is Keith Baldwin and I represent the law firm of Grimwald and Franks. For the record, Walter and Wendy Rose have a probated will. The reading of their last will and testament is scheduled for this Friday at one o'clock at the law offices of Grimwald and Franks on Wilshire Way. The children’s destiny will be revealed then.

The church fell as silent as the proverbial church mouse for several minutes. No one could think of anything to say to the latest news. As Mr. Baldwin waited for some reaction to his announcement, the now-subdued Claire found her voice, although a shaky one.

Excuse me, Mr. Baldwin. A few more questions, please. As far as we’ve been able to determine, the Rose children have no living relatives. In whose care does the will leave the children? Who can attend the reading and where exactly is the firm’s office? What do the children need to bring with them?

Keith Baldwin’s kind eyes turned to meet Claire’s gaze. My apologies, Mrs. Peabody. These funerals always get so frantic with everyone trying to figure out what is going to happen now that their loved ones are no longer here. I honestly don’t know the particulars of the Roses’ will, so I can’t say where the children will end up. If the will doesn’t list a guardian for them, we will be more than happy to assist you in processing adoption papers. In cases like this one, we typically recommend that the children bring to the reading a week’s change of clothes. If the children have any personal items that they would wish to keep, please help them box up those items. Arrangements will be made to have the boxes picked up within a couple of days and delivered to the children’s new residence.

Directing his remarks to the group at large, the young attorney made his closing comments. Any of you here with an interest in the children’s welfare are invited to attend the reading. Until then I would advise that the children be left in the care of Mrs. Peabody. I believe she has the best interests of the children at heart. Besides, I have my doubts that anyone here possesses the moxie to get around her, he added with a smile.

Walking forward, the young man handed a still-stunned Claire a large white envelope. Mrs. Peabody, in this envelope you will find a summons to the reading and driving directions to the office. We will see you, Emily, and Nick at one o'clock Friday afternoon. Good day to you all. And with that, the young attorney turned and left.

Words from the second caseworker, Kathy Collins, quickly returned Claire’s focus to the matter at hand. Mrs. Peabody, please understand that we are only looking out for the children’s welfare. There’s no problem with leaving them in your care until the reading of the will on Friday. Both Mrs. Allen and I will attend the reading Friday to ensure that the children’s interests are protected. If the will does not name a guardian for the children, we will be happy to work with you and the attorneys to begin adoption, if that is what you want to do. Then, so as not to create a further disturbance to the Rose family, the two social workers left.

Deciding that the house seemed to be the safest refuge, a troubled Claire quickly collected the children and drove home. The same miserable thoughts gnawed at each of them. When the ride home at last ended all three hurried inside, taking care to lock all the doors and close all the curtains.

Outside it was only midday -- the sky was a clear blue with the sun shining brightly. Inside, Claire and the children sat huddled together in the dark den. However unlikely, three lost souls in that house prayed for even the smallest chance that the outside world would somehow forget about their existence and move on without them. The same daunting questions spun wildly through each of their minds. Did the will list a guardian for the children? If not, why did it not? If the will did name a guardian, why did the children not know who it was? Was it possible that the will listed Claire as the children’s guardian? Would the will send Emily and Nick to different homes? There were so many important questions with no answers.

Still in the clutches of despair, Claire and the children made a conscious decision to do absolutely nothing the rest of the day. Dinner consisted of a couple of cans of condensed soup and sandwiches. Nick turned on the television early in the evening, but no one paid much attention to the screen. It was late before Claire finally shooed everyone off to bed. Tonight was one of those times when she did not want to be alone.

The three lost souls crawled out of bed early the next morning. Each had spent the majority of the night staring off into space, trying to develop plans for the future. But not knowing what secrets the will held made it a pointless endeavor. Claire fixed sausage patties and biscuits for breakfast. Having not eaten much the day before, the hot sausage biscuits hit the spot.

After dressing, they started packing. Nick found two large suitcases up in the attic. It only took the two children thirty minutes to fill their suitcases and school backpacks with the clothes they would need to take. Not knowing where they would be going made it difficult to decide what to pack. In the end, Emily and Nick decided that if their guardian did not like the way they looked, that would be his problem. Both made sure to pack several favorite ball caps.

As the children finished packing their clothes, Claire brought down a dozen cardboard shipping boxes she had found tucked away in the attic. Each child then took four of the boxes to pack away the rest of their clothes and personal items. When those boxes were full, they used the remaining four boxes to pack away mementos of their parents. The children quickly agreed that now was the time to get their parents’ things packed as well; there would be time later to divide it between them.

They were surprised by the number of things they had never seen before. The way their parents had wrapped certain items implied an importance that was unknown to the children. In the past couple of days the twins had realized that there was much about their parents they did not know, which added new questions to their thoughts. When all the packing had been completed, the boxes were pushed into the living room just off of the foyer. They would sit there until arrangements had been made to pick them up for delivery to the children’s new home.

Wouldn’t it be a hoot if the will names Claire as our guardian and we have to unpack all of this stuff? joked Nick.

Don’t worry, you two! If that happens, I’ll be more than happy to unpack these boxes all by myself, said Claire.

Wanting what could possibly be their last night together to be special, Claire drove to a pizza parlor for dinner. Since the parlor was on the far side of town, Claire hoped that they could dine unnoticed. Diners could watch pizzas being made by hand through a big picture window. When the pizza maker jokingly threw a clump of cheese against the window at her, Emily jumped and then laughed softly. It had been several days since Claire had seen a smile light up Emily’s pretty face. When their super-duper deluxe and pepperoni with mushroom pizzas came out of the oven, they carried them to the dining room. The pizzas, with their hot melted cheese, tasted delicious.

Ignoring what was going to happen the next day, the three engaged in a bubbly conversation. The talk centered around a crazy family who had moved into the old house on Warner Street. Nick, who had been visiting his friend Pete, had apparently seen the grandfather running outside in his boxer shorts, trying to catch a canary that had escaped from the house.

The last thing I saw was the old guy shinnying up a tree trying to catch the canary with a butterfly net, laughed Nick.

Emily and Claire laughed at this vivid description. Hearing the boisterous group, a piano player came out to play a few tunes just as they finished their pizzas. Not many people were seated in the dining room, so it was relaxing to sing the old-time tunes plunked out on the piano. Nick even cajoled the pizza minstrel to play the I'm Gonna Eat Some Worms song that Mrs. Charles taught them in the third grade. Caught up in the fun of the moment, they almost forgot the tragic news that had changed their lives.

Part 3

Before they realized it, Friday morning had come and it was time to leave for their one o'clock appointment at Grimwald and Franks. Claire made the children dress in their nicest clothes despite their expressed preference for attending their last rites in jeans. It was well after eleven before the car, loaded with Claire, Emily, Nick, two suitcases, two backpacks, and the summons left the house. As the car sped down the road, the two young Roses took a long look at the house they had called home. They knew they probably would never see the old farmstead again.

When they arrived in Plymouth, Claire stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch. As they sat at the table, each knew that this was the time for last words. And yet with all the talking they were doing, the very words each longed to say did not leave their lips. When Claire caught a glimpse of the clock, she motioned to the children that it was time to go. Acting as navigator, Nick directed Claire to Wilshire Way and the parking garage under the office building. Claire’s watch read twelve forty-five as they reached the third floor. Ahead she could see Room 315, the room where Walt and Wendy’s wishes would finally be made known.

Standing in the open doorway, Claire and the children simultaneously sensed that something was not quite right. The cavernous room with its twelve foot ceiling and dim yellow lights had a creepy feel to it. The yellowed paint on the walls, the scuffed wood floors, and the various bookcases and work tables scattered about the room cluttered with untidy piles of papers, books, and journals imparted an unmistakable dreariness.

The gray-haired attorney behind the weathered desk at the back of the office stood out as the focal point of the room. The man seemed oblivious to all that was going on about him, keeping his eyes focused on the stack of papers in front of him. Claire noticed that his rumpled white shirt, with the top button undone, could have stood a good wash and pressing. His loosened black necktie hung askew around his neck. As he sat reading his papers, his hands stayed glued to the sides of his forehead slowly twisting the ends of his wiry eyebrows. But it was not the unkempt décor of the room or the preoccupied attorney behind the desk that raised the group’s suspicions. What seemed so out of place were all of the other people clustered inside the room.

To the left of the attorney's desk stood a tall slender girl who appeared to be the twins’ age. She had shiny shoulder-length jet black hair and slanted eyes. The young girl wore a pretty sleeveless lavender dress with a white sailor collar sporting a delicate white bow in the center and a pair of white Mary Jane flats. The sadness in the girl's eyes, her pale face, and the sullen frown on her lips all combined to mar her simple beauty. Behind her stood two young women - Social Services caseworkers.

Across the room stood a young boy who also looked to be the twins’ age. The same air of sadness surrounded this dark, curly-haired lad. The teen wore a navy blazer over a light blue shirt with navy tie, crisply pressed khaki slacks, and a pair of tan loafers with leather tassels. The poor boy seemed to be making every effort to lose himself as his hands wrestled with a brightly-colored Rubik's Cube puzzle. Behind him stood two more stoic Social Services caseworkers – a young man and an older woman. These two spoke in hushed tones to social workers Geraldine Allen and Kathy Collins as they peered out of the corner of their eyes at Claire and the Rose children. In the back corner, just to the right of the door, a young gentleman stood quietly leaning on a walking cane propped in front of him.

Claire reluctantly ushered her two charges over to where Allen and Collins stood. As she was about to ask what was going on, the town square clock struck one o’clock. As if automated, the gray-haired attorney immediately looked up from his papers and came to life.

Kind sir in the back of the room, would you please pull the door closed. Children, let me introduce myself - Horace Grimwald, chief partner of the law firm of Grimwald and Franks. I had the honor of preparing your parents' wills. Please take a seat in front of me so that we can talk about each of your parents' last wishes. First, let me offer you my deepest condolences. I sadly lost my parents a few years back, but I doubt my loss quite compares with the grief any child bears when one or both of his parents die.

As the four children slowly moved to take a seat in one of the chairs stationed in front of the old wooden desk, Horace Grimwald addressed the huge collection of caseworkers who were obviously confused.

Ladies and gentlemen, today's proceedings will run very differently from all other readings that you may have been party to in the past. The probated wills of the parents of Kako Takami, David Nasser, Emily Rose, and Nicholas Rose are all identical down to the last letter. It is for that very reason that we have decided to finalize the three wills with all four children in one meeting.

By this time, the newly orphaned children had found a seat and were busy studying each other, struggling to figure out what possible common bond they shared. The gray-haired attorney then turned his focus back to the children and in slow, deliberate words made his announcement.

Kako Takami, David Nasser, Emily Rose, and Nicholas Rose - your parents established a trust fund for each of you with one Guinness McGyver serving as your legal guardian and overseer of the trust. Mr. McGyver, will you please come forward so that I may introduce you to the children?

Before the sandy-haired man in the back of the room could take a step forward, all heads in the room snapped back to catch sight of the person that now held the four children's future in his hands. The advancing Guinness McGyver provided a striking contrast to the gray-haired attorney. Similar in age to the children’s parents, the man wore an olive green herringbone jacket with crisply pressed white trousers. Beneath the jacket he wore a tan dress shirt highlighted by a crimson and gold print silk tie. A pair of highly polished oxblood-colored shoes rounded out his outfit. The children noticed a beautiful wooden walking cane in his right hand. The glossy rosewood shaft had an unusual grain and the flat-topped handle held a dark ruby-colored stone. But the man's bright green eyes stood out as his most notable feature; those eyes reflected an unusual mix of kindness and determination.

McGyver greeted each of the children with a gentle handshake and then addressed them as a group. The one challenge that your parents issued to each of you and me is simply to become family. As different as we may all appear to be, I am sure we will find a common bond. I look forward to learning everything I can about you in the next few weeks. I have no intention of ever trying to replace your parents, but I will do my very best to restore happiness and security to your lives. Children, if you will bring your luggage over to this corner, Carlton, my driver, will be up in a few minutes to carry your suitcases to the car.

With this McGyver turned and walked over to talk with Claire privately. No one heard what McGyver said to Claire, but the change in her countenance indicated his words were well-taken.

As Carlton packed the children's luggage on a cart to carry downstairs, a teary-eyed Claire gave Emily and Nick one last hug. You two stick together, trust in each other, and you'll do okay. If you ever need my help, I am only a phone call away. You two give Mr. McGyver a chance. If I know your parents, they knew exactly what they were doing when they picked him. Now get along, you two barn rats, and don't ever forget how much I love you.

Fighting back the tears, Emily and Nick turned, grasped each other's hand, and hurried to catch up with Carlton, David, and Kako. Guinness McGyver stood by the doorway waiting for Emily and Nick. As the two children walked through the open door and down the hallway, McGyver gave Claire a wink and a kind smile.

Chapter 3: A New Home

Part 1

The children rode to their new home in a black limousine that provided plenty of space for everyone to sit, and a cavernous trunk that gobbled up the four sets of luggage with room to spare. Guinness McGyver sat between Kako and David on the spacious bench seat behind Carlton. This left Emily and Nick plenty of room on the seat opposite the other three passengers. The limousine's seats and interior trim were upholstered in a deep charcoal cloth. The velvet upholstery, the thick padding in the seats, and the roominess of the cabin contributed to a comfortable ride.

However, on this day the atmosphere inside the limousine was every bit as somber and bleak as a ride in a hearse. Kako's stoic gaze never strayed from the outside world flashing by on the other side of the car window. David stared listlessly at the Rubik's Cube he held in his hands, only occasionally twisting and turning the cube faces. When McGyver asked him if he were close to solving the puzzle, he commented nonchalantly that things were indeed starting to fall into place. To Emily, though, the cube looked to be in nearly the same state of disarray it had been in when they first sat together in the lawyer's office.

Unlike his companions, plucky Nick took the offensive by firing question after question at McGyver. No matter what their parents' trusts said, McGyver was going to have to prove himself.

What do you do for a living? Nick asked.

I manage a diamond and precious gem brokerage company, answered McGyver.

Are you married?

No, he answered, showing a bare ring finger.

Do you ever want to get married?

Yes, one day when the right girl comes along.

How did you know our parents?

We all grew up together as children.

What's your favorite color?

Burgundy.

What's your favorite candy?

No doubt about it, chocolate-covered raisins and peanuts.

Is there enough room in your house for four more people?

Yes, a room for each of you has already been set aside.

What do you enjoy doing in your free time?

Cooking.

Is there a place around your house where we can go outside and play or are we just going to vegetate in the house all day long?

I assure you there will be numerous opportunities for outdoor adventure for each of you!

The twinkle in McGyver's eyes and the amusement that played