Necessary Heartbreak (18 page)

Leah nodded, before saying, “My husband grieved for so long. I know you can't truly understand this, but when a child dies, you lose yourself . . . well, that is until he found the man who spoke about a new world.”

“Who was that?”

“I'm not sure. I believe your father knows of him.”

“Has my father met him?”

Leah shook her head. “I'm not sure. He's a man who talks about love and understanding. My husband would follow him and listen to him . . . when he could find him, that is. But there were many who
questioned my husband's belief in this man, though he didn't care what they said. Ultimately, he was murdered.”

“Who killed him?”

Leah began to cry.

“I'm sorry. Please, please, don't cry.”

“Elizabeth, I just don't know what happened. I never really saw their faces. The crowd swirled around him, and I still don't know what I saw . . . if I saw anything. He had been away and I had stopped expecting him to come back.

“But then I heard him calling out to me. He was home . . . after all that time, he had finally returned! I was elated as I ran up to the roof. I only wanted to see him looking at me, after all those nights waiting up there. I rushed to the side wall, hoping to see what was going on, but the crowd was too chaotic. I was petrified, watching them swarm below. I couldn't see him.”

“You didn't go out to help him?” Elizabeth asked in disbelief.

“Elizabeth, I am so ashamed. I did not know he was in trouble. I went to the roof rather than out to the well. When I realized that he was hurt, I panicked. I had been grieving and feeling isolated for so long. I just felt weak. What could I do? When I got to him, it was too late . . .
I
was too late.”

The familiar front courtyard of Leah's home was about a hundred yards away. Michael was hungry, and his body felt battered. The blisters on his feet bled with each step against the dirty stone roads of Jerusalem.
This is still Monday, right?

He approached the front gate and caught a glimpse of Elizabeth working side by side with Leah, preparing a meal in the simple kitchen. Their faces held a similar, peaceful expression.

“Elizabeth!”

“Dad?”

He could see her face breaking out in a smile.

“Dad!” She dropped a basket of grains and barreled toward him.
“Launch!”

“No, no,” he whimpered, realizing his daughter was about to run full force into his weary arms.

In her excitement, Elizabeth saw only his face but none of his wounds. She hurtled toward her father and Michael reluctantly held out his arms. Giggling, Elizabeth jumped into his arms, causing him to stagger backward onto the ground.

“Nice to see you,” Michael said, before laughing himself.

As they pulled themselves to their feet, Elizabeth's mood changed suddenly and she was no longer smiling.

“Where did you go? Why did you leave me here? You left me alone!
Why?
Why did you do that? I've been so
scared
!”

“I know, I know, I'm so sorry. I have been trying to get back to you this whole time,” Michael said, patting her hair. “Are you okay? I'm here now. Try to relax.”

“Relax?
Relax?
How could I relax? You left me with a strange woman. You didn't tell me where you went. I was worried you were caught and back in that place.”

“Remember this conversation later when I ask you where
you're
going,” said Michael with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

“Very funny,” she retorted, annoyed. “This is different. You left me alone here in a strange place.”

“I know. I really am sorry, Elizabeth. But I had to. I had no choice. I'm sorry.” He paused. “Hey, let's go inside where we can talk more. It smells great in there. I'm really hungry.”

Elizabeth stepped in front of Michael, blocking his way. “Did you find the opening?”

“Yes . . . but I got distracted . . .,” Michael said, looking away.

“What do you mean?” she shrieked. “You've been gone for nearly two days!”

“I was looking for your mother.”

“What?”

“I thought I could find your mother,” Michael whispered as he put his hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. “I tried . . . I tried so hard.”

“You're scaring me, Dad,” she replied, backing away.

“Elizabeth, I saw Jesus yesterday. I mean, I think I saw him. I don't know how it could have been him, but I ran after him. I yelled to him. He never turned around, so I'm not sure if he heard me, but I really think it was him.”

Elizabeth stared at him.

“No, really, Elizabeth. I know it sounds crazy. There was this parade. You had to see it. Honest. I thought he could help us . . . you know, tell us where your mom is. Seriously, you've got to believe me. It was him.”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “I was there with Leah watching a parade, Dad. I didn't see anything but Roman soldiers.”

“You left with her?” Now Michael was annoyed. “I told Leah to keep you here until I came back. It's not safe where I went.”

Elizabeth ignored her father's glare. “Dad, you've been gone, like, two days. I'm not sure what to believe. I don't know if we're in some kind of weird dream or what, but I don't like the idea you've been thinking about finding Mom right now. Why would she be here? We have to get home. And now you're saying you saw Jesus? Come on. Let's not get crazy now.”

“It can't be a dream, Elizabeth. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. I can smell food and taste it. I thought maybe Jesus could help us get Mom back.”

He raised his arms out to his sides, indicating the scene around them. “Elizabeth, c'mon, who would have believed any of this was possible? Jeez, after all those years in church, I don't think I even believed that half those stories were real. And yet, look where we are. Seriously, do you really think this is some sort of dream?”

Elizabeth slapped at his arm in frustration. “Maybe it is a dream.”

“No, really. I know what I saw and it makes no sense. But if this place is possible, anything could be, right? Even your mother . . .”

“Whatever.” Elizabeth dropped her hands to her sides. “Can you just get us home?”

Michael winced, realizing how stupid he must sound to her.
Why can't I just let go?

He wrapped his arms around Elizabeth. “You're right. This is just crazy talk. I'm sorry. I'm so hungry and thirsty . . . maybe I was seeing things? You know, lost out in the desert and all?”

“Lost in the desert . . . ?”

He grimaced at her, his eyes wide. “I got a little loco, I guess. Don't worry; I'll get us back tomorrow. Let me just get some water and food, okay?” Michael started to limp forward through the front gate.

Elizabeth saw the blood on his sandals; he really was in bad shape. Leah, who had been watching from the courtyard, noticed as well. She ran outside to help him, but Elizabeth immediately intervened and nudged her away.

“My father needs
me
,” she said pointedly.

Later they were sitting around the dining mat when Leah said, “We have some fresh bread, which Elizabeth helped make.”

“Really?” Michael said, looking at his daughter with surprise.

Elizabeth looked up and gave her dad a playful glance.

Leah laughed. “You sound surprised. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, no, of course not,” he said with some pride in his voice. “I'm just still surprised we can even understand each other.”

“What do you mean?” Leah inquired.

“Well, we're from Northport and you're here in Jerusalem. Shouldn't we be speaking different languages?”

“I'm speaking the language I've always spoken . . . and so are you.”

“English?”

“Pardon?”

“This can't be,” he muttered under his breath, turning to Elizabeth wide-eyed.

Leah paused for a moment. “You know, Elizabeth was a big help to me while you were gone. She was very brave here all by herself. You should be proud of her.”

“I am,” Michael said, leaning in closer to touch Elizabeth's hand.

Leah poured some water into their cups and they began to eat. “So you were able to find your way through the city?”

“Yes,” Michael said in between bites.

“Did you see that soldier?” Leah asked.

Michael hesitated. “No, never saw him.”

Leah looked at Michael. She leaned over and poured some more water in his cup, searching his face for an answer. “You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Michael tried to change the subject by describing to Elizabeth the marketplaces and buildings he had seen. He avoided any stories about the pain or tension he faced during his encounters with soldiers or civilians. He wondered if he should continue to discuss his theory on seeing Jesus.

That's madness . . . this is all madness.

Elizabeth put down her cup and rubbed her eyes. “I'm not sleeping alone tonight,” she said through a yawn. “I've done that two nights in a row and you keep disappearing. Tonight, you're staying with me. I need to keep an eye on you.”

Elizabeth pulled him up from the mat and brought him over to her bedroll, laid out in the small alcove she had tried to sleep in the night before. Dragging him down next to her, she whispered, “Don't ever leave me again.”

He was quiet, sobered by the intense grip his daughter had on his arm. He began to rub her head. “Always remember I love you.”

She smiled, but the fatigue from her previous poor night of sleep coupled with all her anxiety regarding her father's absence was too much. While looking into Michael's face, she began to blink her eyes up and down several times.

“Close them, Baboo,” Michael said. “I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere without you.”

“I'm right
here
. . . Elizabeth, you're okay.”

Her crying wouldn't stop despite distracting sounds from the television, the radio, and even the stereo. The stroller was now against a wall in the living room, discarded there after he had unsuccessfully tried to calm her by pushing her around the house. Even his grand attempt to play “Silent Night” on a flute, an artifact he'd unearthed dating back to his grade-school days, failed to pacify her. So he stood there, two-year-old Elizabeth screaming under one arm with an old, tarnished flute anchored beneath the other.

Oh, Vick. What more do I have to do?

Anguished, Michael walked from room to room, searching for anything that would stop her screaming. He opened up drawers, showing their contents to Elizabeth. But the tears and wailing continued.

Back in his room, he noticed something caught in the bottom drawer of his dresser. It was where he kept the last few items of Vicki's clothes. Wincing, he pulled it open and immediately saw her old blow-dryer. On cold nights, Vicki used to rub his back and warm him up by directing the hot air from the blow-dryer to his feet.