Ineffable Plan

“This is it?” I asked as Emmanuel opened the car door and got out.

“Yes. Hurry up. Come on,” he said as he stood by the car waiting for me to get out.

“Who’s impatient now?” I mumbled as I unbuckled my seat and scrambled out the car.

“I heard that.”

Emmanuel grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the dinky little library. As we walked in I noticed that it was pretty empty. Emmanuel pulled me towards the front desk and once we were there he asked a girl if ‘West’ was there. She quickly bounced out of her seat and went to find him. Moments later she returned with a middle-aged man.

“Emmanuel. It’s so good to see you,” he said happily, shaking Emmanuel’s hand and slapping his shoulder roughly.

“Same here, West. I want you to meet someone.” He pushed me forward. “This is Justine Wallace.”

West slightly pulled down his glasses and looked over them at me. “So, this is her,” he whispered quietly.

Emmanuel nodded.

“Well then come on. We’ll see.”

Emmanuel grabbed my wrist again and started pulling me as we walked after West. After a few steps I dug my heels into the floor trying to get Emmanuel to stop.

“Em, you’re cutting off my circulation. Ease up on my wrist. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He gave me an apologetic smile.

West took us to a room in the back of the library. It was stuffy and dusty and I immediately started coughing and sneezing.

“Is she going to be alright?” West asked Emmanuel.

“You okay?” He whispered to me.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say between coughs.

“Here it is.” West placed a small book on the desk and exited the room, leaving Emmanuel and me alone.

“So this is the book?” I asked unimpressed.

“Yes.” He pushed it in front of me. “Go ahead look at it.”

I dusted off the cover and took a better look at it. The book was small; about the size of your average bible. It was leather bound with gold leaf lettering and had a large clasp holding it shut.

“What does all this scribbling mean?” I asked Emmanuel.

“You can’t read it.” His eyes searched mine.

“It’s not English,” I stated.

“I know,” he whispered. “Aaron was sure it was you.”

“What was me?” I asked loud enough to get him to stop talking to himself. His eyes shot back up and he looked up at me.

“Try to read it.”

“Emmy it’s not in English. I only speak English and I don’t even do that too well,” I said jokingly. He didn’t laugh.

“Just try.”

I sighed and looked at the writings on the front cover.

“Nothing,” I stated and looked up at him again.

“Are you trying?” He asked pleadingly. “Please, Justine. Really try.”

I nodded and looked down at the book for a third time.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered five minutes later.

“It’s okay.” Emmanuel leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his chin resting on the palms of his hands. After a moment of just staring at me, he sighed. “Aaron was positive it was you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s one of those things I can’t explain unless…”

“Didn’t we have a rule about this? It’s like the only rule. ‘Don’t bring up things you can’t discuss.’ Is that so hard to follow?”

He smiled again. “Why don’t you see if you can open it?”

“You can’t open it?” I asked curiously.

“I can open it. I want to see if you can.”

“Why? Is the clasp stuck or something?” I picked up the book and examined it.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He laughed. “Will you stop asking so many questions and just open it?”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look, it’s just very important that you try, okay? Please.”

I nodded. I placed the book on the desk so that it was standing on its bound side and the clasp part was in the air.

“Just press this button?” I asked Emmanuel and he nodded, staring intently.

I put my finger on the button and looked up at Emmanuel.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

I pressed it and simultaneously the clasp flew open and there was a sharp warmth, almost a gentle burning, on my chest and around my neck. I immediately let the book fall and grabbed the necklace that was around my neck.

“Are you okay?” Emmanuel’s face looked torn between worry for me and elation that I had gotten the book open.

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?” His voice held the same emotion as his face; concern and delight.

“Nothing,” I mumbled. He gave me a look. “It’s just that when I opened the book, it felt as though my necklace was on fire.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Move your hands.”

I did. He looked shocked for a fleeting moment and then his lips formed into a warm smile.

“My little brother is a lot smarter than I would like to give him credit for.”