Everybody's Daughter (32 page)

Michael was startled out of a shallow sleep as the couple’s little boy hovered over him, sporting a huge grin. “Michael, why are you angry?” the little boy asked.

“Why do you say that?”

“You were moving your arms like this.” The boy demonstrated Michael flailing his arms in a fighting stance.

“I had a bad dream.”

The boy remained standing, his face only a few feet away from his.

“Go back to sleep.” Michael looked around the room. “Where is my baby?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Is he lost?”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Have you seen my boy?”

“I am a boy.”

“I know. But there was another one. A baby. Wrapped in a blanket. He was laying here on the floor next to me.” He looked around, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. “Oh, there he is,” he said with relief seeing the baby still wrapped in the cloth in the far corner of the room. “How did he get over there?”

“I put him there,” the little boy said.

“Why?”

“I was playing with him.” The boy put his hand on Michael’s face. “My father says you do not need to worry.”

“Where is your father? I don’t see him anywhere.”

The child smiled. “My father is everywhere.”

Michael’s feet felt numb and when he tried to stand, his knees rolled over like jelly. He was unable to feel the texture of the ground. “I can’t move. What’s happening?”The boy placed two fingers on Michael’s heart.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, confused.

“Why is your heart sad?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Tell me why your heart cries.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I like stories.”

“Can you get the man at the desk or ask my friend next door to come and help me? I can’t feel my legs.”

“You do not need them. You have my father.”

“Your father isn’t here,” Michael said in a firm tone.

“He is. He told me.”

“Where?”

“Close your eyes.”

“How will I see him if I close my eyes?”

The boy grinned again. “My father says he need not be here to help you see.”

“Is this some kind of game you play with your father?”

The boy didn’t answer. “You are sad about your daughter. She is with my father now.”

Michael gasped, his heart crushing against his ribs. “Your father knows where my daughter is?”

“Elizabeth is happy.”

“Where is she?” He crawled on his knees to the boy, now sitting on his bedroll. “Tell me. Where is Elizabeth? I’ve come here to find her, to take her home.”

“She is already home.”

“Our home? In Northport? Tell me.”

The boy gave a distressed look. “My father will take care of you. Do not be sad.”

“How?” Michael asked, anxiety pounding through his temples, giving him a headache. “If you know where she is, tell me.”

“My father is telling you.”

“You need to get back to your parents.” Michael gasped for air. “It’s not nice to trick adults.”

“It is not a trick. My father is here. You just do not see him.”

Michael looked around, his headache easing, his lungs slowing down. “I don’t see anybody. What’s your father’s name anyway? What’s your name?”

“My name is Jesus.”

Michael felt the blood draining from his head. “Where are you from?”

“From far away. My parents told me to say that.”

“Are your parents Mary and Joseph?”

“There.” He pointed behind him to the man and woman, bags in hand, signaling to the boy to come.

Mary gestured to Jesus. “We must go now.”

Michael held his hand up for them to stop. “I came to bring you the baby. The crying baby I found in the field,” he said. “This is the reason why I’m here. Am I right?”

Mary tilted her head, her brown eyes as warm as a mother’s caress. “It was not the baby crying for help. It was you.”

“What?”

Mary knelt down beside him and opened the wrapping. “See?”

The baby was still. Michael put his hand on the child’s face, feeling the texture. “It’s the baby from the church. He’s not alive,” he said incredulously. “I must look like a fool. I’m losing my mind.”

Mary helped him to his feet as Joseph continued packing their belongings. “You are not a fool. You are a good man, a wonderful father and loving husband who has made mistakes. We have all made mistakes.”

“We have many more steps to go, Mary,” said Joseph. “Let us keep ahead of the soldiers.”

“Let me help,” Michael said. “This must be the reason why I’m here.”

“You will be in danger,” Joseph replied.

“You must go home,” Mary implored.

“I don’t know how to get back. I need to find my daughter. Help me. I’m desperate. My daughter is lost.”

“Then follow us,” Joseph said, picking up the last bag. “We will do whatever we can to help you.”

Michael composed himself and said goodbye to Amun. He rejoined Mary, Joseph, and Jesus outside the inn. They hurried in the direction of Egypt. Mary guarded her son, placing a couple of garments over his head. “Can you breathe?” she asked.

He giggled. “Mama, this is fun.”

Michael stayed in front of the two donkeys with Joseph, holding onto the baby wrapped in the cloth. “How far?”

“Another sunset away,” Joseph said. “Herod’s butchers will be everywhere. Keep your eyes awake.”

It wasn’t long before they encountered a gathering of travelers waiting in a singular line. “Mary,” Joseph yelled. “Cover Jesus well. Keep him quiet.”

Her face grew white.

They reached the back of the line, some thirty or so weary men, women, some with children riding on donkeys and camels. Herod’s soldiers, armed and brutal, pushed, shoved and battered many of those who resisted the theft of their possessions. The soldiers worked their way through the contour, pulling aside only a few children but mostly grabbing anything of value. And when an elderly man objected to the treatment of his wife, the soldiers delivered a fatal blow, leaving the woman weeping, kneeling by his side. Michael turned away in fear. Jesus started to fidget. He whispered, “My father will punish the wicked.”

Mary shushed him but he resisted. “Mama, they are not nice men.”

As a soldier stared at them, Mary tightened her grip, cupping part of the garment over Jesus’ mouth. Joseph stayed silent, smiling and bowing, anxious to move forward upon the soldier’s approval. Another Roman crept a few more steps back.

Oh no. They’re going to get him.

Michael ran, clutching the baby and the cloth. “I’ve got a boy,” he yelled.

“Stop him!” the soldier demanded. “He has a child.”

“Move on,” the soldier screamed at Joseph.

A group of five pursued Michael as he ran back in the direction of the inn. “Leave me alone,” he shouted. “I need to find my daughter.”

Out of breath a few minutes later, he stumbled to the ground, clinging to the baby as the cloth fell off a few feet away.

“Get up!” commanded one of the soldiers as the others drew their spears, surrounding him. They grabbed the baby, studied him for a few seconds, and threw him to the ground. The soldier growled, “You are a fool.”

The soldier jolted Michael in the head with one sharp thrust of his spear, opening a gash as he fell backwards. He struck the side of his head against a large rock.

“Leave him,” the leader said. “We need to get back. More silver to take there.”

The baby lay silent and motionless; his arms glued upright. Dazed, Michael reached for the cloth with his right hand. Pain plunged through his neck and lower back. The stars above him spun around in a fast, circular direction.

Jesus towered over him, his parents a few feet behind.

Joseph extended his hand. “My friend, you are hurt. We need to get you help.”

“No. Go. Your family is in danger.”

“My Father is near,” Jesus said.

“My daughter. Where is she?”

Jesus picked up the cloth and placed it over Michael’s wound. “She is here.”

Michael’s body floated and a foggy mist engulfed his head. His body, once aching with pain and exhaustion, filled with an internal heat, soothing his soul as he elevated above the three.

Am I dead? Is this heaven? Vicki? Mom? Sammie? Are you coming to get me?

Michael’s world had gone black for what seemed like a few minutes. Just as quickly, the sun shone and he took in the mountains surrounding him on all sides as if the tips of their terrain scraped the clear blue sky. He heard sheep in the distance and people’s chatter.

Where am I?

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he stepped sideways down the hill, unsteady.

While shielding his eyes, a sparkling glare near a mountain opening alerted him.

What is that?

He increased his speed, the momentum of the slope propelling him into a slow trot. He sprinted the last few yards.

Out of breath, he leaned down, staring at the gold chain as if in a trance. He lifted the rock and picked it up, holding it in his hand. A chill slivered up his spine, making the hairs on his neck tingle.

My daughter can’t be here.

He fell to his knees, clutching the chain and wiping off the dirt. “It’s not Elizabeth’s,” he said in a whisper. “I’m sure of it. She doesn’t own something like this. Someone else must have dropped it.”

It was a chain and locket like no other he had seen in Jerusalem.

It could have been from someone else who came through the tunnel.

He held on to the locket for several moments, allowing the sun to create a glare from it, hitting the top part of the cave.

Michael trembled and picked at the locket.

It opened and he shut it just as quickly, squeezing his hand around it.

He walked up and down a small hill several times until anxiety tired him. He clipped at it again with his fingernails.

He closed his eyes before it opened again, praying as he peeked at the picture in the locket.

Matt.

“No. Please. No.” Falling to his knees, he hugged the chain. “It can’t be.”

Michael crawled into the cave and pushed away a stone.

A figure swathed from head to toe in white cloths lay before him. The ointments intoxicated his nose.

He leaned over and unraveled the top of the body.

Bile rose up in this throat and he let out a growl, so animalistic, he thought a wild animal was nearby but realized it was him.

He picked up a rock and hurled it against the wall and looked up. “You did this,” he shouted. “You, God, you did this. Why did you take my daughter? Wasn’t my wife enough for you?”

He retrieved the rock and sharpened its edges and swung it at his chest. “Why did this have to happen? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I’ve given my life to you, God. This is my reward? Talk to me. You’re God! You’re supposed to help the good people. I’m good.”

He cried and threw another rock against the cave’s wall.

“You win. Kill me. Take me.” He stood up and fell down just as quickly, heaving and sobbing. “I’ll kill myself. Take me, Lord.”

He picked up Elizabeth and pressed her against his chest, rocking back and forth, kissing her face. His wails echoed off the hollow stone walls of the tomb.

“I want to die,” he yelled. “I want to be with my daughter.”

Michael leaned on his refined walking stick, his arms more muscular yet his eyes weary. He pulled his hair tightly together, feeling it touch his shoulders. His legs were straight as he walked down the hillside. He took a deep breath and stopped, finding cover a few yards away from the mountain.

He watched a man and woman holding hands as they approached the cave. They embraced as she leaned her head against his chest. The woman whispered words he couldn’t comprehend.

Michael hid behind a bush, removed the wooden cross from his pocket and placed the chain around his neck. He peered out and smiled.

It’s Leah coming here again. She looks happy. She looks so beautiful.

Leah and the man went into the cave. It was several minutes before they reappeared.

The man and Leah walked away, holding each other’s waists. She looked up and Michael hurried behind the burly bush.
Did she see me? I hope not.
He retreated a few more yards back up the hill. When it was clear, he descended again, his steps measured.

He kneeled down inside the opening and touched the clothed body, enjoying the sweet smell of the oils. He whispered the words he had said so many times as a little boy. “Our Father, who art in heaven….”

After Michael finished, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to Northport.

Elizabeth was sitting next to him. She was ecstatic that her Daddy had taken her to the movies for the first time.

“Remember, no eating the popcorn or candy until the movie starts.”

She nodded, grinning.

“Do you promise?” he had repeated.

“I will cross my heart.” So she did. As her hand swung down it tipped the bag on her lap over. A few pieces tumbled to the floor. She jumped down, retrieved the fallen popcorn, and wiped them off with her shirt. “Five second rule, it’s okay to eat,” Elizabeth had said.

She sported a sly smile, melting his heart. He patted her on the back and leaned over, whispering in her ear, “I was teasing. Enjoy your popcorn.”

With enormous glee, she took a handful and began munching. He had laughed. “Like father, like daughter.”

Michael crashed out of the memory, wiping a tear with his sleeve. “How much is that doggy in the window?” he sang softly. His voice broke and he couldn’t get through the song. He closed his eyes for several minutes, trying hard to convince his mind to travel back to another time. He was startled as a hand touched his shoulder. “Who is that?” he asked in the dark.

“It is me,” a soft feminine voice said. “Why did you not tell me you were here?”

“Leah?”

“Yes.”

“Why, Michael, did you not come back to my home?”

He stood and noticed her tired green eyes, a few wrinkles below them, demonstrating she had endured more stress in her life. “I saw you many times with a man here. You looked happy, holding hands, hugging each other. I couldn’t intrude on your happiness. You have moved on and I’m grateful you have found someone again. You deserve it.”

Leah shook her head. “Michael, I loved you. I would have wanted to know if you were here.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I loved you, Leah.”

She bowed her head. “I do understand.” Leah hugged him. “You should be proud of Elizabeth.”

“I am,” he said, absorbing the embrace with his heart. “How did she die? Tell me.”

She hesitated for a brief moment. “She was brave. Courageous and strong. A woman without fear. She defended me against Marcus. She fought him.”

Michael sobbed, holding her tight. “Was she in a lot of pain?”

Leah didn’t answer. “She told me to tell you she loved you.” She wept and leaned her head into his chest, wiping her tears on his garment.

“She also told me to tell you she didn’t mean to leave the lights on. I do not know what she meant.”

Michael shook and sobbed. “I do.”

He squeezed her. “I miss her so much,” he said.

“I do as well.”

“Are you in trouble,” a man’s voice called from outside.

She turned from Michael’s embrace. “I am fine.”

“You should go,” Michael said.

“I cannot let go of you. I cannot bear to lose you again.”

He tried to remove her grip. “You must. You have a wonderful life ahead of you, many more sunsets to thank God for, live and love for.”

She released her hold as Michael wiped tears away with his hand.

“I will always keep the rooftop here.” Leah pointed to her heart. “I am so glad we found each other.”

She kissed him on the lips and left. Michael watched the two fade into the hillside before returning to the tomb. The sky had darkened and there was some thunder in the distance. He stood at the lip of the cave’s opening, admiring the stormy weather. A heavy rain drenched the ground, forming little pools. He looked down and saw his reflection.
Boy, would I love a warm shower.

He waited several more minutes before pulling his hood over his head to begin his walk back home. The mud soiled his sandals so he took them off. He stopped and let his feet feel the sloppy sludge. It was an oozy feeling yet he relished the soft comfort.

Michael took a few more steps and stopped again. He looked around.
It looks big enough. No, I can’t do this. But there is nobody around.
He dropped his sandals to the ground and laughed.
I hear you. Do it with me?

He bent down and lay flat on his back, relishing the moisture soaking his face. “Okay, now!”

He swung his arms up and down. “Can you see me Vicki? This is for you. Thanks for saying yes.”

Michael continued, smiling and crying at the same time. As he finished his mud angel, a man stood above him. He jumped up. “My Lord.”

He smiled.

“Why are you here?”

Jesus’ grin widened.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I witnessed a beautiful act of unselfish love – the greatest gift you can give to another person.”

He smiled again. A raging wind whipped through the small cave opening. Voices swirled around him. Snippets of conversation could be heard nearby in the cave.

“Who is there?” Michael asked, walking back to opening of the tomb.

He saw the stone displaced. “What the…”

“It’s time for both of you to go,” Jesus said.

“I don’t want to go back to Northport,” Michael said, turning around. There’s nothing left there for me.”

“There is much work to be done for both of you here.”

“Both?”

A woman walked out from the cave.

“Elizabeth?”

She stood in silence, touching and feeling her face.

“My God, Elizabeth!”

Michael hugged her.

“Where am I? What happened?” she asked.

“My God, my God, thank you.”

He embraced her tighter and kissed the back of her head several times.

“There is not much time,” Jesus said. He gave them His instructions.

Before Michael could say a word, He disappeared into the cave.