Everybody's Daughter (4 page)

Matt slammed the trunk shut and slid behind the wheel.

“Cool car,” she said.

Matt laughed. “You’re being nice. It was made before we were born but I guess as long as it gets me around, it’ll do.”

“Hey, can you teach me how to drive?”

“You’re only a freshman.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Thanks for reminding me, oh ye great big
high school junior.”
She tied her hair back, trying to think of something to say. “How did you like class today?”

“I’m into the whole ancient civilization stuff, so I found it interesting. What got you involved in the subject? Don’t you think you’re kinda young for a community college class?”

“First, enough about my age. Didn’t you ever hear it’s just a number?”

He persisted. “How’d you get into the class anyway?”

“A connection through my father.” She straightened in her seat. “And, second, I know all about ancient civilizations, more than you think.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

Matt chuckled. “Sounds like we’re getting married.”

She nervously pushed the radio station button a few times. “I almost did.”

“Get out of here. What are you talking about?”

She pointed to her house up ahead, although Matt knew where she lived. “Over there.”

He turned into the driveway and parked the car.

Elizabeth became aware of the short distance between them as she unbuckled her seat belt. “Well,” she said awkwardly. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Tell me how you know so much, smarty,” he said. “I won’t even ask you what you meant about the marriage thing.”

“Someday I will. But not now.”

“When?”

“Not sure.” She pushed on the door handle and it flew open, then ricocheted back at her. Desperate to get out of the car, she threw her foot in its path, and tried in earnest not to grimace when she felt the door crunch her foot against the car frame.

“Wait,” Matt shouted.

“I got it, never mind.” Elizabeth hopped out of the car, landing on her throbbing foot. She limped toward the trunk, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her flushed face. She turned to see him looking at her over the roof of his car. “Thanks again.”

“Hang on,” he said. “I want to ask you something else. How about going to a movie or something?”

She took a few seconds to compose herself. “Sure. I’ll let you know. Let me check with my dad and see what’s going on today. Can you wait a minute?”

Outside the church several parishioners milled around the front steps, chatting about what they did the previous night, who they planned on seeing this evening, and their upcoming Thanksgiving plans. Michael was greeted by men shaking his hand and women planting friendly kisses on his cheeks.

Connie gave him an envious stare. “Are you sleeping with that one?” she’d whisper to him after each churchgoer embraced him in a warm hug.

“Would you stop?”

He was an old hand at fending off his sister’s sweeping moods and inappropriate quips. But in this case, he actually relished the challenge. He glanced at a woman standing next to Dennis.

Connie perked up, pushing her glasses to the farthest point on her nose. “Who is that?”

The woman wore a figure fitting, attractive, black dress. Italian-made sunglasses shaded her eyes from the bright sun, and her dark curly, brown hair slightly touched her bare shoulders. She spoke in an eloquent, soft voice to Dennis. She didn’t look more than thirty-five years old.

“My, oh my,” Connie said “Is that the local slut?”

“Watch your mouth. Not that it’s any of your business, she’s just a friend.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Michael wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

His sister devoured the bait. She smacked him on the shoulder. “No way.”

“Keep it down. Only you know about this. The pastor doesn’t even know.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What about Elizabeth?”

“No, not even her.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

He shrugged. “I’m taking the fifth from here on in.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Is she the Leah from Jerusalem? Can I meet her?”

He grabbed her arm in alarm as Connie headed toward the woman. “Her name is Linda. Please don’t bother her.”

“You’re so sensitive. What happened between you two?”

“Nothing I should discuss with you. For once, can you please respect my feelings? Anyway, she’s busy with Dennis.”

“Dennis?”

“The pastor.”

“My, we’re on a first name basis with the holy honcho.”

His mood switched to one of fake friendliness as he spotted a fellow church-goer. “Hey, Mrs. Fullerton, nice to see you.”

“Good morning, Michael,” the elderly woman said, pulling his head down to give him a kiss. She gestured to his sister. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not a friend. This is only my sister. Connie, meet Mrs. Fullerton.”

“Yes, Mrs. Fullerton, I’m
only
his sister,” Connie said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Michael grabbed his sister, spun her around and gave her a big bear hug. “She’s going to help us with the food and clothing drive today.”

Connie backed out of his embrace, as if she’d been stung by a disturbed nest of bees. “Oh, please.”

Mrs. Fullerton smiled. “You’ve got such a wonderful brother. See you both inside.” She staggered slightly as she turned toward the steps.

Michael reached out to steady Mrs. Fullerton as she clung tightly to the railing with one hand and held a cane with the other. She climbed the stairs slowly, taking measured breaths. “I’ve got it, Michael, thank you.”

Connie gave a low whistle under her breath. “My little brother is quite the Don Juan now, isn’t he?”

He flashed a confident smile. “That I am.”

“Look, I’m going inside,” she said. “It’s too cold out here.”

It was a brisk November afternoon, with Thanksgiving only a few days away. This used to be Michael’s favorite time of the year. The town had an early holiday feeling. His gray sweatshirt felt good in the sharp breeze blowing off the nearby harbor. Michael noticed Linda’s cheeks were rosy from the frigid air.

Linda turned and caught him staring at her. She smiled and waved. “Hi, Michael.” She walked over and gave him a big hug. He enjoyed it, but pulled away from the embrace.

“Hey, Linda, great to see you again.” He flipped his hand toward the church door as he ran up the stairs.

Dennis greeted him at the door with a friendly slap on the back. “Hey, buddy, thank you for coming by to help. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Happy to help. Where do you want me to start?”

“Since you know the basic layout of this church better than most, I need you to bring some of the old containers and cartons full of clothes down to the basement.”

“Sure. Where are they?”

“In my office.”

“No problem. I’ll get right to it.” He hurried to Dennis’ office.

Michael retrieved four plastic bins. He could see the clothes were in varying stages, from ratty old robes and cassocks to tattered and beaten sandals. He thought the clothing was similar to what was worn in Jerusalem, conjuring up more memories of his time with Leah.

Lost in thought, he went through the motions of setting the plastic bins down in a corner of the basement.

He opened the top container and touched an old robe lying on top of the heap. He shivered as he bunched the material in his hand. He pushed the robe to the side and grabbed a cassock. Carefully, he pulled it over his head and tightened the belt.
Not bad
. He could walk through a Jerusalem crowd any day and not stand out. The nostalgic thought made him smile.

He returned to the bin and rummaged through it, finding a pair of men’s Teva sandals that looked like they were in good shape. Rubbing the straps, the familiarity of the sandals brought back the memory of wearing a similar pair in Jerusalem.

Thoughts of the final seconds of his encounter with the dangerous Roman soldier, coupled with the memory of kissing Leah, paralyzed him for a few minutes. His throat felt dry and his hand shook.

If I could go back I would. But I can’t leave Elizabeth. What if I don’t get back? I couldn’t do that, but I want to.

He let out a breath and inhaled again. Steadying his hands, he leaned down and slipped his feet into the sandals. With slow steps, he walked around the basement, recalling the feel of the rough roads and stones beneath his feet.

“Oh, there you are,” Connie said, yanking him out of his reverie as she poked her head through the doorway. “Pastor Dennis told me you were down here.” She gave him an incredulous look. “What’s with the get-up? Halloween was last month.”

Michael ignored her.

“Anyway, I spoke to this Linda woman,” she said, sounding triumphant. “Did you know she’s over fifty? I bet she’s even closer to fifty-five. But she’s never been to Jerusalem. And she says you guys have gone out. So what have you got to say now, little brother?”

Michael continued to ignore her.

“Did you hear me?”

“Nope.”

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking.” Michael continued to rummage through the boxes, not sure what he was searching for. He fingered the coins inside his pocket, jingling them, bringing back more memories of his extraordinary journey.

He knelt down beside the container and removed several items, much of them clothing and old relics, including a wooden cross on a necklace. There was an inscription on the back.
The Lord shall protect his peaceful soldiers.
He slipped it around his neck.

“Isn’t this beautiful, Connie?” He struggled to say the words in English but they came out in perfect Aramaic.

“What? What did you say?” Connie asked.

“You don’t understand?”

“What?”

“I’m saying your hair looks like a bird’s nest on a wet April day.”

She scratched her head, looking confused. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Michael trembled and removed the cross from his neck. “Isn’t this beautiful?”

She nodded, still baffled. “Yes it is. But, what were you saying before? What language was that?”

“I was yanking your chain,” he said, then ignored her guffaw as a glint of gold caught his eye. He knelt down and looked closer through the bin’s clear plastic. At the bottom, he spotted a cross, no more than a foot long and wide.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

He found it.

The steel door to the tunnel lay beneath the box.

All he had to do was open it.

But he didn’t.

Still kneeling, he stared at Connie, not saying a word.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked in alarm.

He stood and reached over to the bowl of holy water, sitting on a stanchion by the wall. Michael dipped both hands in it, looked at the water with reverence, and drank some.

His sister let out a loud gasp. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking.”

“You just drank Holy Water. What could you possibly be thinking about?”

“About this,” he said, lifting the box and pointing to the gold cross on the floor.

“So what? It’s a cross. We’re in a church.”

“It’s more than that. It could take me back to Jerusalem. It’s a chance to see if Leah is safe. A chance to see if Jesus truly rose from the dead.”

“Yeah, right.” Connie rolled her eyes. “You’re talking crazy,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I think you’re spending
way
too much time in this place and turning into one of those religious freaks.” She got up and walked to the door. “I’m going back upstairs. You’re starting to scare me.”

“No. Don’t leave.”

“Let’s get out of here and go grab some coffee or something. My head is killing me.”

“No, I can’t leave.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m out of here.”

“Connie,” he called after her. “Promise me that you’ll take care of Elizabeth.”

“You should lay off the wine. Your hangover is making you talk nonsense.”

“Promise me, Connie.”

“Of course, I’ll always be there if Elizabeth needs me,” she said, trying to placate him.

Michael stood in silence, touching the wooden cross so gently. His mind spun around and he wobbled slightly. He could still see Connie at the doorway and her frightened expression.

The sound of a screaming baby jolted him. His breath lodged in his lungs and he was speechless at the sight before him.

His daughter lay in a hospital incubator, crying. He saw a vision of himself leaning against the window, weeping over Vicki’s death that night. He tried to shake himself from the nightmare by reaching for the wall behind him. Elizabeth appeared and wasn’t more than five years old, running in the backyard, being chased by Connie. He smiled as his sister picked her up and twirled her in a circular direction like a merry go round.

His head continued to feel like he was in a misty fog. “I do,” an older female voice said. He turned to his right and his daughter stood majestically in a beautiful white, long gown. A tall man had his back to him and was holding her hand. The church was filled with well-dressed people, some crying, others smiling. “Do you, Matthew…”

“Where am I?” he asked under his breath.

“Are you all right, Michael?” Connie yelled.

He couldn’t answer as he fell to the ground.

She ran over to him. “Are you hurt?”

He stretched his neck and rubbed his eyes. “Just dizzy.”

“What happened? I called out to you a few times. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I felt light-headed and saw all these images of Elizabeth.”

“What kind of images?”

“When she was born, the night Vicki died. When she was older, even when she was getting married.”

“Wow. Did you sip the church wine while you were down here?”

“Wasn’t the church wine,” he said. “My life’s with Elizabeth.” He gaped at the cross and opened the small door, the stairwell to the tunnel now visible. “But I don’t know if I should go down those steps and help a friend. What should I do?”

“You should do nothing. You don’t know what’s down there.”

“I do.”

She grabbed his arm and shook him. “Let’s go back upstairs. You aren’t well. You’re scaring the daylights out of me.”

He heard a voice from the tunnel.