The Hidden Deep Read online

  THRESHOLD SERIES

  THE

  HIDDEN

  DEEP

  BOOK TWO

  CHRISTA KINDE

  For all those who forge families —

  May yours know the sweetness of home.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  CHAPTER 1 The Naming Debacle

  CHAPTER 2 The Bumper Crop

  CHAPTER 3 The Model Student

  CHAPTER 4 The Steady Hand

  CHAPTER 5 The Frantic Hostess

  CHAPTER 6 The Lost Lamb

  CHAPTER 7 The Park Rangers

  CHAPTER 8 The Bench Warmer

  CHAPTER 9 The First Rehearsal

  CHAPTER 10 The Fall Festival

  CHAPTER 11 The Almost Twin

  CHAPTER 12 The Group Project

  CHAPTER 13 The Stone Stairs

  CHAPTER 14 The Crowded Kitchen

  CHAPTER 15 The Awkward Apology

  CHAPTER 16 The Waking Dream

  GLOSSARY Order of Angels

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  About the Author

  Preview

  1 THE FIRST SNOW

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  1

  THE

  NAMING

  DEBACLE

  Milo cut through the air, skimming across shifting beams of light with what looked like reckless abandon. However, this angel had learned caution. Though there was joy in his flight, he continuously scanned above and below for signs of danger. Just off his flank, a flare of dusky purple revealed the presence of his armor-clad companion. Taweel flew with sword in hand, ready to defend his teammate.

  “Race you back!” Milo challenged, folding outstretched wings and streaking through a sky as blue as his eyes.

  With a soft grunt that may have been amusement, the Guardian followed.

  Just north of the small town of West Edinton, the Messenger banked into a steep spiral that ended with an expert flick and fold, then he climbed back into the driver’s seat of his old, green car. Checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror, Milo ran his hand over short-cropped blond curls and buckled the seat belt across his mailman’s uniform. As the engine rumbled to life, Taweel leaned down to peer through the open window.

  “We’ll try again after I finish my route,” Milo promised. Then he put the car in gear and took off down the road, kicking up gravel and a small cloud of dust.

  Prissie and her next-younger brother Beau climbed onto the white-painted plank fence that stood behind the twin mailboxes at the end of their long driveway. An oval sign showing an overflowing basket of apples proudly announced Pomeroy Orchard, and the block letters on the pair of red and white flags on either side of the gate let people know that the apple barn was open for business.

  Throughout the summer months, afternoons had found Prissie right here, waiting for the mail, but today was different. Today, she was waiting for the school bus. Settling onto her perch, she crossed her ankles in a ladylike manner and smoothed the skirt of her pink and white sundress. “It shouldn’t be much longer,” she remarked, gazing off in the direction of the highway.

  Beau nodded. He never said much. To be honest, Prissie was a little surprised the thirteen-year-old had volunteered to join her. He usually buried himself in a book or spent time on the computer after school. Their bus had dropped them off nearly an hour ago, but they were waiting on Zeke and Jude, who would be arriving on the elementary bus.

  Six-year-old Jude was going to school “for real” this year. According to him, kindergarten was just a warm-up, but he was finally following in the footsteps of his older siblings. At Momma’s request, all of the Pomeroy kids were sticking around the house to have milk and cookies with the little guy to celebrate his milestone. Prissie and Beau listened closely for the telltale rumble of an engine, but the only sound was the lazy buzz of the bees that droned in the riot of purple coneflowers that Grandma Nell had planted around the mailboxes.

  “You think the bus will beat Milo?” Beau asked.

  Prissie favored her brother with a long look, trying to decide if he was teasing her. Milo Leggett was a long-time family friend, and her fondness for him was something of a sore spot. Everyone in town knew the young man, but Prissie always thought of him as theirs. He went to their church, taught Zeke’s Sunday school class, and regularly dropped in to chat since their farm was the last stop on his route. Milo’s visits had been a cause for excitement ever since she was a little girl because he was special. Of course, up until this last July, she hadn’t realized just how special.

  There was no sly glint in Beau’s blue eyes, so Prissie resisted the urge to snip. “It’ll probably be close. They might even get here at the same time.”

  “Jude would like that,” he remarked thoughtfully.

  Privately hoping Milo’s timing was providential today, she replied, “It would be nice.”

  Another minute ticked by before Beau spoke again. “Say, Priss … about Koji.” He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye.

  Prissie began to fiddle with the end of one honey-colored braid. Was this why Beau was here? In a house as crowded as theirs, it wasn’t easy to hold a private conversation, and it was even harder to find a time when Prissie and Koji weren’t together. The boy probably would have been with her now except that he’d begged Grandpa Pete to let him help out with the farm animals. Tad was showing Koji the ropes of his new responsibilities.

  “Did he do okay at school today?”

  “Of course!” she said defensively. “I made sure of it!”

  Officially, Koji was an exchange student who was boarding with the Pomeroy family for the year. To everyone else, he seemed like an overly curious boy with exotic features — golden skin, almond-shaped eyes, and glossy, black, shoulder-length hair. Her whole family believed he was from a set of tiny islands in the middle of the Pacific.

  Only Prissie knew the truth.

  Meeting Koji had been an accident, or at least something that didn’t happen very often. For reasons no one yet understood, Prissie had spotted the young angel watching her from a branch in one of her grandfather’s apple trees. In the weeks after that first meeting, one thing led to another. Or maybe it was better to say that one angel led to another.

  Prissie had discovered that angels were living as regular people in and around West Edinton. It had been hard learning that Milo was one of them. Their mailman was a Messenger, as was his mentor, Harken Mercer, who owned a used bookstore on Main Street. After getting over her initial shock, they’d introduced her to Baird and Kester, “Worshipers” who led music at the DeeVee, a church down in Harper.

  Since then, she’d met or heard about other varieties of angels. Each had a special role. For instance, Koji was an apprentice Observer, and he was thrilled by his chance to live as a human instead of just watching them from afar. For the most part, Prissie didn’t mind having him around. Koji’s delight was contagious. He’d proven himself a good friend, but it was still difficult to reconcile everyday things with the fantastical ones she’d witnessed.

  Beau stared up into the sky. “Koji can be strange.”

  “How do you mean?” Prissie asked carefully.

  “Well, I know he’s from another country and everything, but some of the questions he asks are way out there. It’s almost like he’s from another planet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s not an alien.”

  “I know, I know,” Beau muttered. “But sometimes he takes foreign to a whole different level. Have you ever tried to explain sneezing to someone? And he’d never tasted bananas before.”

  “Maybe they don’t have them where he comes from?”

  �
�I checked online. That island where he’s from has whole banana plantations.”

  “I’ll tell him not to bug you with such weird questions.”

  “I don’t mind,” Beau quickly assured. “His questions make me think, and it’s kind of interesting to try to answer them.”

  Prissie frowned. Beau didn’t speak up unless he had something to say, and it felt as though he was still working up to it. “I think Koji looks at things differently than most people,” she suggested.

  “Do you know that he’d never used nail clippers before? He watched me trim mine, then asked me to do his, too.”

  “That was nice of you,” she said nervously.

  Beau shrugged. “It’s kind of like having another little brother, except that he’s older than me. You’re his favorite, though. Does Margery know she’s been displaced?”

  Prissie’s expression clouded. “I doubt she minds.” She and her best friend Margery had drifted apart over the summer. Since Prissie needed to show Koji around, she’d barely said two words to her in school today. Not that Margery noticed. She’d been busy giving the grand tour to Elise Hanson — another newcomer to West Edinton.

  Her brother took a deep breath. “You’re not going to ditch Koji, are you?”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  With a determined expression, Beau forged ahead. “I know you don’t mind being his best friend around here, but how are you going to treat him when other people are around? You might get teased because he’s different.”

  With flashing eyes and flaming cheeks, Prissie demanded, “You think I’d be that awful to someone?”

  “Hope not,” he muttered.

  He dropped his gaze, but his back was straight, and that meant he was sticking by his question. She scowled. “There’s no way! Koji’s ours now, and I’m not letting anyone make fun of him!”

  “Ours, huh?” Beau looked embarrassed and relieved at the same time, as if his almost-accusation had been as hard for him to say as it had been for her to hear. “So you really are okay with him and his weirdness?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Good.”

  Although Beau let the subject drop, Prissie’s conscience nagged at her. It was easy to overlook Koji’s bizarre qualities because she knew he was an angel. If he’d been a regular boy, would she treat him the same way? Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer that question. Just then, the school bus swung into view—right behind an old, green car. “Milo!” she cheered, immediately feeling better.

  There were times when Prissie hated how crowded and noisy her house could get, but there were also times when she wouldn’t trade the hubbub for the world. Today, she was glad to be part of a big family.

  Momma herded everyone into the kitchen, where Grandma Nell lifted fresh cookies onto cooling racks, filling the room with the mouthwatering smell of melting chocolate. Grandpa Pete found an excuse to come in for a cup of coffee, but even with Milo and Koji added to the mix, there was no need to squeeze around the sturdy kitchen table. It had been built to serve a crowd.

  Questions and answers flew through the air as notes were compared. Yes, Prissie’s oft-rehearsed fears of alphabetical seating arrangements had been realized. No, Zeke’s teacher hadn’t fainted dead away at the sight of him. She’d taught Neil, after all. She was brave. Yes, the school bus driver still listened to country music while he drove. No, Beau hadn’t forgotten his lunch box in his locker. He was turning over a new leaf now that he was out of elementary school.

  Milo was right in the thick of things. He asked Tad if he’d still have time to work on the old truck he was rebuilding now that classes were back in session, and he checked with Neil to see if the football coach had finalized the roster for Friday’s game. However, it didn’t take long for Zeke and Jude to mob the mailman, eager to share their grade school adventures.

  As the conversation took a turn to pencil sharpeners and dodgeball, Koji claimed a place at Prissie’s side. “I drove!” he whispered eagerly.

  “Tad let you drive the quad?” she asked, amused by his excitement. All the Pomeroys learned to drive as soon as their feet reached the pedals of the various mowers and tractors on the farm. One of the jobs Grandpa had given Koji was to help Tad feed and water the pigs, and since their shed was in the back forty, they used a four-wheeler to drive out there.

  Koji nodded. “We took them apple mash from the cider press, and I tried to use the pump. It was difficult, but Tad is quite able.”

  “It sounds like you had fun, but it’s a lot less fun if the weather’s bad,” Prissie warned.

  “I will not neglect the task your grandfather entrusted to me,” Koji promised.

  When they turned their attention back to the group, her family was a sight to behold. Prissie shook her head at the level of ridiculousness on display, but with five brothers, she’d come to expect it. She knew from experience that it could get much, much worse.

  “Beat this!” Neil gloated.

  “Mine’s better!” Zeke argued.

  “Milo’s dripping,” said Jude with a giggle.

  Koji gazed around the table in fascination, then leaned close to whisper, “What is the goal of this contest?”

  “No point,” Prissie said. “Just silliness.”

  Zeke crossed his eyes as he tried to catch a glimpse of his milk moustache, and Jude beamed up at Tad. “Come on, Prissie,” coaxed Neil. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud!”

  Even Milo’s smile wasn’t enough to tempt her into joining in. “No thank you. I prefer to drink my milk, not wear it. Who started this, anyhow?”

  Everyone immediately pointed to Milo, who sheepishly reached for a napkin. Prissie looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Sorry, Miss Priscilla.” Once she’d accepted his apology with a smile, he cheerfully changed the subject. “It sounds like everyone made it through their first day intact.”

  “Not me!” Beau replied with a groan. “Mr. Hawkins started roll call before I could tell him not to use my full name!”

  “So it’s out,” Tad said sympathetically.

  “Maybe no one noticed?” Prissie ventured, earning a flat look.

  “It will take months to live this down,” the thirteen-year-old grumbled.

  Koji looked from one sibling to the next. “What are you talking about?”

  “Names,” Tad supplied.

  “My name isn’t really Beau,” the middle brother explained. “That’s my nickname. It’s short for … my full name.”

  Neil reached for another chocolate chip cookie, then shook it at Koji. “We who bear the name of Pomeroy share a tragic flaw, handed down to us by our parents.” Glancing around the table, the sixteen-year-old asked, “Shall we let him in on our darkest secret?”

  “Why not?” Tad replied with a friendly smile. “I think he’ll keep quiet.”

  Koji’s eyes widened. “Thank you for your trust.”

  “Okay, then,” Neil agreed, picking up his tale. “It may interest you to know that Momma and Dad gave all of us Bible names.”

  The young angel looked from one sibling to the next, then glanced toward Mrs. Pomeroy, who stood on the other side of the kitchen. Naomi had obviously heard these grievances many times before, and her gray eyes were dancing. “I think they’re fine names,” Momma said, trading an amused glance with her mother-in-law.

  “Very traditional,” Grandma Nell agreed.

  “And very unfortunate,” countered Neil.

  Tipping his head to one side, Koji said, “I do not recognize most of your names from Scripture.”

  “We shortened them,” Beau said with a disapproving look in his mother’s direction.

  Tad took this as his cue, folding his hands on the table and fixing Koji with a serious gaze. “I don’t like it to get around, but my full name is Thaddeus,” he revealed. “I’ve been calling myself Tad since the first grade.”

  “Indeed,” Koji replied before looking to the next brother. “Neil is short for …?”

  “Cornelius,” he r
eplied with a grimace.

  “I might have guessed that one,” Koji replied. Gazing into Prissie’s face he asked, “Are you unhappy with your name?”

  She shook her head, but admitted, “I do usually introduce myself as Prissie, though.”

  “Aquilla and Priscilla were lovely people,” Milo interjected.

  Prissie blinked in surprise. It sounded like the Messenger had known them. Was it possible for Milo to be that old?

  Koji’s dark eyes sparkled with interest as he looked at eight-year-old Zeke. The boy’s unruly mop of blond hair was a testament to his energetic nature. “Zeke must be short for Ezekiel?”

  “Nope. Hezekiah,” announced the boy.

  “Is that worse?” inquired the young angel curiously.

  “Way worse.”

  Turning to the humiliated teen, Koji asked, “What is Beau short for?” The teen put his hands over his face and mumbled his reply, but the young angel’s ears were sharp. “Your name is Boaz?”

  “The kinsman redeemer,” Mrs. Pomeroy said with a dreamy sigh. “I just love his and Ruth’s story! So romantic!”

  One blue eye peeped out long enough to roll expressively. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean you should inflict his name on a poor, unsuspecting baby.”

  “What is Jude short for?” Koji inquired, looking at the youngest family member. “Judah?”

  Neil leaned forward. “Here’s the thing. When Momma was expecting Jude, we ganged up and issued a formal protest. All of us are stuck with impossible handles, but we thought the new little twerp should be spared the indignity.”

  Tad nodded. “We begged our folks to come up with a name that wasn’t embarrassing.”

  “Of course, Momma didn’t want to settle on something easy like John or Mark,” Neil continued. “She said those were too boring.”

  “Calling him Jude was a compromise,” Mrs. Pomeroy said as she nibbled her own cookie. “Short, but different enough to be interesting.

  “So we call him Judicious, just to be contrary,” Tad concluded.

  Koji smiled at the littlest brother, who was obviously proud of both his name and the story behind it.