A Reaper's Mission

Chapter 8: Claire (Emma)

The house is adorable. A white house with beautiful dark green trim with a matching door. The lawn was carefully cut so it looks uniform with the rest of the neighborhood. There are only two things that stand out. The mailbox which adorably has three handprints on it. One is huge and red, another hand smaller than the other and a gorgeous blue. Finally, there is a tiny little purple handprint that could only belong to a tiny child. The other thing that stands out is the most likely source of the tiny handprint.

            Sitting on the front steps is a little girl. Her hair is in twin braids. She's wearing cute little overalls with a purple shirt. She plays with her dolly, and the dolly matches the little girl's clothes. She is smiling, with a look of imagination in her eyes.

I look around. It has to be morning in this tiny, cute neighborhood.

            Michael, standing next to me, speaks up, "Her name is Claire. She is currently five and a half years old." Michael says, with tenderness in his voice. I look up and he's gazing at the at the little girl, Claire, with so much love. "Her favorite animal is a whale. She loves the color purple. Because it is summer right now, she has a babysitter. Every morning she waits on the steps for her before having breakfast." Michael says all of that factually and with care. AS though he couldn't imagine anything more important than her. 

            He starts to head toward Claire. I follow behind, trying to figure out why he would bring me here for this. Is he trying to prove that not all guardians are bad? Fat chance. I bet this is all a trick. After all, I've never seen Michael until recently. Suddenly, Claire's eyes glance to exactly where we are standing, five feet from her.

            Her face splits into a huge smile, showing her missing front tooth. "Bob!" She cries with so much excitement. Bob? I look at Michael, who looks even happier. She tilts her head, looking directly at where I am, "Hmm you're new..." Her cute little brow furrows in thought. "You're Beth!" She claps her hands in celebration. "Bob and Beth!" She squeals, bouncing with literal joy.

            What?? She isn't supposed to be able to see us. How is this possible? And why doesn't Michael look unnerved? Then it hits me. He did this on purpose. He is breaking rules and interfering. He's letting Claire see us. He's trying to send me to Hell!

But...if that's the case, then why hasn't he said anything to her? And why does she call him 'Bob'? And me 'Beth'? If she could see us, she would ask our names, right? Or maybe she would run inside because of 'stranger danger', right? So, what's going on?

            Claire jumps up, "MOMMY!" She calls, running into her house, laughing. "Mommy, Bob brought a friend today!" I hear her yell.

            "What...what's happening?" I ask finally. Michael throws his head back and laughs. "Why are you laughing? She can see us" I seethe, thinking of all the punishments. Terror starts choking me. He's trying to get me into trouble. He doesn't want to save David; he wants me to get sent to Hell with him.

            "Relax Emma. No one can see us." Michael says, finally getting over his stupid laughing fit.

            "Uh, Claire quite obviously can." I point out, as she gushes to her mother all about Bob and Beth inside the house.

            He shakes his head, "No she can't. Children can sense us, but they can't see us. Normally, once they notice us, they start talking to us and giving us names, but are never able to see us."

            What?

            "What do their parents say? Aren't they worried about their children talking to thin air?" I ask, dumbfounded. Michael bits his bottom lip, but not before a snort escapes. "Why are you laughing?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.
             Michael turns from me and composes himself. "Sorry I shouldn't laugh." He shakes his head once more, a look of amusement on his face, "Parents naturally attribute it to their children having imaginary friends. Thankfully, as people age, they can't sense us as easily and kids just assume the person they talked to really was imaginary."

            "I...I don't understand." I look back in the direction Claire had run to...leaving her front door open. I feel a bit of terror imagining all the people who could sneak in there. I've collected a soul before because the person hadn't locked their front door. I jump when a young woman walks between Michael and me heading towards the inside of the house. I hear her give a small puff of laughter at the open door and the exciting sounding voice coming from the depths of the house. I start to panic, but Michael puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Come." I look at him, who's looking down at me with a smile. "We should head inside." He moves his hand from my shoulder and grasps my hand to lead me into the house. The young woman had shut the door when she walked in, and we glide easily through it. It's a pretty standard house. The living room is extremely basic with a coffee table, two armchairs, and a couch. There is a tv as well and a bookcase holding more knick-knacks than books. Michael gently pulls my hand leading me into the short hallway that has a picture frame that counts the first twelve months of Claire's life with pictures of her. We walk into a tiny kitchen with a round kitchen table.

            A woman that looks to be in her early thirties is over by the oven, cooking breakfast (I guess). Claire is sitting at the table, jabbering away to the young woman who we followed in. As if she notices us walking in, she sends a huge smile our way. Was I this cute as a kid?

"It's been a long time since you were a kid, right?" Michael asks, turning his cerulean eyes onto me. I simply nod. "The older we get the easier it becomes to forget childlike innocence. It's even worse for reapers because they never get to interact with the living." He points his finger and I follow it to see a fridge covered in drawings. "Claire loves to draw with her crayons, I swear she might go into some artist profession when she gets older." I can hear the pride in his voice as he talks about her talents.

I let go of his hand and wander to the fridge. The drawings aren't the best, but she was five.  I study the pictures and kind of understand what I'm looking at. One has two people like figures and a tinier figure...her and her parents? The colors even match the colors I saw on the mailbox. Another drawing looks like her house. Another is possibly a dog...with five feet? Or is that a tail? I feel warmth enter my heart the longer I look at Claire's drawings.

"Breakfast is ready." I hear to my right. I turn and watch as the woman places two plates of pancakes and bacon on the table. She kisses the side of Claire's head, "I have to head to work. See you later, Jess." She kisses her daughter's head once more, "Love you, Claire."

Claire smiles up at her mother, a piece of bacon already wedged into her mouth, "Wove yoo doo, Mommee." She garbles around the bacon.

"Manners, Claire." Her mother reminds her, before walking towards the entrance. Jess pours syrup onto hers and Claire's pancakes. She tops off the milk in Claire's cup and the two continue breakfast.

"Ready to leave, Emma?" Michael asks. He's giving me the option.

"Why would we leave so early?" I say, looking at Claire once more. Does he not care as much as I thought?

"I have nineteen other charges, Emma. Unfortunately, I can't spend as much time in a day with them as I would like." He gives Claire another look, such a tender look in his eyes. That one look shows how much he really doesn't want to leave.

"I suppose we should get going then," I say, heading to the front door. I make it to the living room before noticing Michael isn't with me. I head back to the kitchen and pause in the entryway.

He is kissing the side of Claire's head, just like her mother did. With the morning light and breakfast on the table along with the tender look on his face, he genuinely looks like a father.

Claire glances over at me, "Are you gonna kiss me too, Beth?" I move without even thinking. I go to where Claire is and kiss the top of her head.

"Bye Claire," I whisper, knowing I probably would never see her again.

Michael had moved to the door while I was seeing goodbye. I go to him and he points a finger behind me. I turn to see Claire waving at us.

"Bye Bob! Bye Beth!"