The Gift of Light: (Revised) (The Gifts Book 1) (14 page)

BOOK: The Gift of Light: (Revised) (The Gifts Book 1)
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     When it became clear who he was, his primary doctor made a call to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs’ of Staff at the Pentagon. He, in turn, notified Bradley’s father.

     The senator told the chairman to keep this revelation quiet, and to hold off on letting Bradley’s wife know. He explained that Marta was not doing well, and he wanted to see Bradley himself to be sure about all of this before upsetting her more. He also did not want the press intruding on this very private matter. The chairman agreed to let the senator handle it as he saw fit.

     Senator Steel was in a full panic. It could not be. Bradley was alive? He had to get to him before he said anything. What if he’s already talked? What if he’s talking right now? It was just two weeks to election day.

     “No, this cannot be happening.” He hung his head between his hands as his limo raced to the military hospital just outside of DC

     When he arrived, the hospital staff greeted the senator with great enthusiasm. In his great haste to reach his son, he rushed past most of them.

     “Take me to my son. Take me to him now,” he demanded. The staff understood him to be very eager to reunite with the son he thought dead. He recognized Bradley right away. So there really was no mistake. His son was still alive. He had to pull it together. There were too many people around him, some of them his own assistants who’d arrived right behind him.

     He walked over to the bed, and gently laid his hand on his son’s chest. “Bradley?” he asked, voice ragged with emotion. “Son, can you hear me? It’s your father.” His staff looked on in pity.

     Bradley only moaned and called out “Marta.” Bandages circled his arms and torso, a full cast

encased both legs and IV’s hooked up to both arms. His face was badly bruised but still recognizable.

     One doctor introduced himself as Bradley’s primary physician. “Senator, it is a great honor to meet you,” he said as they shook hands. “Allow me to explain; when your son first arrived he was very badly injured. He was in so much pain that we kept him sedated. Each time we tried to pull him back from the sedation, he became very combative and further injured himself. Right now he is still heavily sedated.”

     “So, he has not been awake to talk about anything the whole time he has been here?” The doctor answered the senator’s question

     “The only words he’s spoken in his time here have been, Jesus and Marta. Who is Marta, if I may ask?”

     “Umm, his wife.” The senator had forgotten all about her. This situation got worse and worse. He had to get full control over this entire mess and he had to do it now.

     Azelius, close at his side, remained calm as he whispered in the senator’s ear. “Take the boy home, and the girl will come to be with him. With them both at the townhouse they will be much easier to control and keep a watch on.” Azelius ignored the two angels standing guard at Bradley’s side. He knew if he could get Bradley to the townhouse, he could take care of them there.

     Senator Steel got his staff in motion. Against the advice of the doctors, he arranged to move Bradley to the townhouse. He shot the doctors down by pulling rank and threatening to call the Pentagon. His staff hired a private physician and nurses to take care of Bradley.

    It only took a few hours to get everything arranged and all the equipment set up in a room at the townhouse. It was not easy to keep the news quiet, but as they loaded him into a private ambulance for transfer, the senator finally made the call to his daughter-in-law. After he broke the news to Marta’s father, he told him to arrange for Marta to come to D.C. as soon as possible because Bradley was asking for her. Then he went to a prearranged press conference to share the good news with the world that his son was alive.

     Marta, in a state of shock and elated beyond words, wasn’t about to wait for anyone to accompany her to D.C. As she got ready to leave, a young attorney, who had been searching for her for weeks, arrived to speak with her about Amelia’s last will and testament. Her parents explained that Bradley was alive.

     With that happy news, the attorney felt they would need to verify certain things again in light of these new circumstances. Marta agreed and the young man took out an envelope. He explained Amelia had asked him to give it to her directly. Marta took the envelope and stuck it in one of her bags. She left the young man standing on her front porch and promised to call him as soon as she could. With that, she jumped into the waiting taxi and sped off to the airport.

     Bradley’s alive, oh thank you, Jesus, thank you. And he was asking for her. That was all that mattered now. She was five months pregnant and her petite frame showed a little baby bump. For some reason, she was not ready for the world to know about her pregnancy just yet. She dressed to cover her belly in such a way that no one would realize her condition.

     She had no idea of the trap that waited for her, and she completely forgot about the envelope in her bag.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

Then they will come to their senses and escape from the devil’s trap. For they have been held captive by him to do whatever he wants

2 Timothy 2:26

New Living Translation

 

 

 

 

 

     Amelia’s sudden death pleased Senator Steel no end. He had nothing to do with it as far as he was concerned, but it was a great stroke of luck nonetheless.

     Azelius had taken that chore upon himself. He and his hordes followed Amelia and her angel around, waiting for just the right moment to strike. He was proud that he did it without the direct aid of the Ba al’ as they had been the ones who took care of the boy.

     No doubt about it, they’d botched that deal. The boy still lived, but it worked to his advantage in the end, because the senator’s son now rested in a place over which Azelius had complete control. Well, almost complete control.

     Two huge angels stayed with the boy round the clock, guarding him and praying constantly. They were bothersome enough, but the prayers of the man, who even in his state cried out to Jesus, kept the demons at bay.

     Bradley called upon the name of Jesus almost constantly, supplicating, believing. The power of That Name made the demons weak and they could not get close to him.

     When Marta arrived, Azelius was irritated to find that he now had her guardian angel in the house as well. At least there was no sign of the archangel Michael, unlike the last time the boy stayed under the senator’s roof.

     Senator Steel welcomed his daughter-in-law warmly and did his best to make her feel welcome. Marta forced herself to keep from cringing as he gave her a hug. She had received the Gift of Discernment from the Holy Spirit, which enabled her to tell good from evil and truth from lies. She didn’t trust the senator at all.

     She made a mental note to herself to be very careful of what she said and how she acted around him. Two things she felt strongly about: she would keep her pregnancy secret for now, and she needed to get Bradley away from here as quickly as possible.

     Her first look at Bradley shocked her beyond words. Covered in casts, with his legs in a traction device, he had lost a good bit of weight. To see him bruised and battered as he was, Marta’s heart broke and tears slid down her cheeks. Thank you, Jesus.

     What a miracle you have done for me. She felt such overwhelming joy and relief to see him alive and breathing, she felt faint. She laid her hands on her belly and shivered. “Oh, baby, daddy’s alive!

 

 

     A private duty nurse attended Bradley at all times to keep his feeding and IV lines going, and a doctor made frequent visits during the day to the third floor bedroom that served as a makeshift hospital room.

Senator Steel seemed to be making sure

     Bradley was well cared for, but Marta wanted to see if he would respond to her with less sedation. She spoke with the doctor about it, asking many questions regarding his care and recovery.

     The doctor explained that Bradley had several serious fractures still in the process of healing. His most significant injury was a crushed, surgically repaired pelvis. This required that he be immobilized in order for the healing process to be complete, thus the sedation was necessary, at least until the x-rays showed his pelvis healed.

     Marta pressed on. “Shouldn’t he be in a real hospital? I mean, do you honestly feel this is the best place for him to recover, doctor? I want him in the hands of specialists where he gets the best possible care. Money is not a problem. I will pay any amount required, but I want him in the best possible place.”

     The doctor reassured her that having Bradley receive private care at home would put him at far less risk for infection, which could be a real setback for him. He also told her he’d made arrangements for portable x-rays to be done at regular intervals to monitor his progress, as well as having regular physical therapy visits to start working on a program devised specifically for his particular needs.

     The real work would to have to wait until his pelvis healed, and that was going to take at least a few more weeks. He advised her to keep Bradley there for now and let him heal.

     Marta accepted it for the time being. The exposure factor made sense to her. She’d just stay here with Bradley. The doctor seemed knowledgeable and caring, earning him a smidge of her trust, but she was still on guard. She knew what lay ahead.

     The one good thing about staying with Bradley at the townhouse was that the senator rarely

visited. He was in full election mode at that point, campaigning hard in those last few days.

     He took a short time off the campaign trail to have Bradley moved into the townhouse, although he still held daily press conferences on the steps of his home. He’d left his running mate, vice presidential nominee, congressman Marty Sheffield, to cover the campaign without him for a few days.

     Bradley’s story was big news and brought even more attention and sympathy from the

American public. The media called Lt. Steel an American hero, and portrayed the senator as a doting and caring father in his many press conferences. His campaign team exploited the American hero and loving father angle to their advantage.

     Senator Steel answered many questions about how Bradley fared, and assured the American public that the doctors expected a full if lengthy recovery. Marta had a room next to Bradley’s, but she barely took the time to unpack her bags, staying at his side as much as possible. One evening while in prayer, with his hand pressed to her cheek, he squeezed.

     “Marta?” His voice was a low, painful moan. Her heart leapt and for a moment, she could not speak. She murmured, “Yes, my love, I’m here.”

    
Oh, Jesus, oh Lord
! Fighting back tears and trying not to get overly excited, she continued to hold his hand to her cheek and wait.

     “Marta … letter.”

     “What letter, darling?”

     “In my … footlocker.”

    He didn’t make any sense, but Marta wanted to keep him talking. “I’m here, sweetie. Don’t worry. I’ll never leave your side again, I promise. Just relax and heal.”

     Bradley began to grow agitated at his inability to make his needs known. “Find the letter in my footlocker and it give to Amelia.”

     Marta wasn’t about to tell Bradley of his aunt’s death until he was much better, but his words jarred something in her memory. Amelia’s letter … the envelope stored in her bag! She’d forgotten all about it.

     Bradley drifted back to sleep as though the exertion tired him. Marta stayed there, holding his hand until his breathing became deep and regular. She ran to her room and dug through her bags until she found the one containing the large manila envelope.

     She dumped the contents on the bed, scooped everything up and ran back to her chair beside Bradley.

     The private duty nurse sat in her usual spot outside the door, reading. Bradley wasn’t due for feedings or IV changes for several hours. Marta sat back and inspected the contents of the envelope. There were several old letters from Bradley’s mother, Camille Stanford Steel, addressed to her sister, Amelia.

     Next, a large diary that turned out to belong to Amelia.

     An envelope addressed to Marta fell from the book. In it, Amelia wrote instructions with the final line stating that Marta must not trust the senator under any conditions. She insisted that Marta make public the information contained in her journal and Camille’s letters as soon as possible.

     Amelia added a word of caution that Marta protect herself and her baby at all times and then concluded the letter with her remorse that she’d let her sister down. Even though they’d long since forgiven each other, Amelia lived with regret for the pain she caused her sister for her entire life.

     The first line in the journal, dated more than thirty years earlier, started with:

 

     Oh how I hate my sister, Camille. She’s stolen

Brad Steel from me…..

 

     Marta read on and on as Amelia’s journal spanned decades of their lives. From the journal and

Camille’s letters, she learned about the real Brad Steel. He was a cheater, a liar, a wife and child beater and quite possibly a murderer.

     Although originally engaged to Amelia, Brad chose instead to marry her younger sister, Camille, because she was soft, weak and easier to control. All he cared about was her father’s money and receiving his backing for political office.

     To her everlasting shame, Amelia heard this treachery from Brad’s own lips as she tried to win him back from her sister. After they were married. Amelia and Brad continued an illicit affair for years before Camille found out about it. When she did, she turned to prescription drugs to help her cope with the awful betrayal.

     Many of Camille’s letters came from her stay in rehab. She wrote to her sister daily, telling her how she’d found Jesus while staying in the drug rehabilitation program and the wonders and miracles He’d wrought in her life. She wanted Amelia to know she forgave her, and that at some point, she hoped Amelia would find Jesus and be able to forgive her in return.

     Other letters told of the abuse she suffered at Brad’s hands. He’d beaten her almost daily, robbing her of all dignity and hope; she feared for her son’s safety should anything happen to her.

     Still more letters, dated after Camille came out of rehab, warned her sister that she planned to leave Brad, but feared he might try to kill her. Amelia begged Camille to be on guard and to take extra care of her son.

     Camille’s last letter reinforced her resolve to leave Brad and stated that the plan was in motion. She’d just told Brad she was leaving him and planned to file for a divorce.

     Camille died the day Amelia received that last letter, just as she noted in her journal.

 

 

    
Today I learned my sister is dead. I received a letter from her this morning. She writes to me and then sneaks the letters out instead of simply calling me. It’s because she’s afraid.

     Brad listens in on all of her phone calls. My hands tremble as I read the letter to my father before he and I set out for Hook Pond. Brad called him this morning, frantic, saying that Camille had killed herself with drugs. I don’t believe that. I think Brad killed her. I think he killed her because she was leaving him.

     My father will not listen. He only wants to cover this up. I know he’s heartbroken over Camille’s death, but he doesn’t want our good name sullied with a drug related suicide. At this point, my father and I are the only ones besides Brad who know that Camille is dead.

     He told Brad not to call anyone else until we got there and he’s asked a personal friend, a doctor, to meet us in Hook Pond. He won’t even let me tell Mother what’s going on because she’s out of town for a charity fund raiser. I know he’ll pay the doctor and anyone else necessary to help him keep this quiet. And God help me, he’ll make me help him cover it up as well. He’s already told me to keep my mouth shut. For the boy’s sake, I’ll do what I have to do. I promised Camille I’d keep him safe, and I will.

 

     Marta read another entry in the journal, dated a few days later.

 

    
We buried my sister today. The word, the official cause of death, is that she suffered a heart attack in her sleep. I want to vomit every time I say it to anyone because it’s a lie. I know it.

Camille died of a drug overdose, confirmed by the doctor and medical examiner. It looks like a suicide or maybe an accidental overdose. No foul play is suspected because she was a known drug abuser. Father paid his doctor friend and the medical examiner huge sums to keep it all hushed. I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make Brad pay for this. I know he killed my sister. He forced her to take those drugs because she was going to leave him, but I have no real proof, only her letters. I also must do everything I can to protect her son. What do I do? Where do I go?

 

     This was the last entry Marta read. She hid the journal and the letters and would later decide what to do with this information.

     Senator Steel stood outside the room, talking to the nurse, who told him that Bradley mentioned something about a letter and footlocker.

     Marta stayed cool when he asked her what Bradley said, but the truth was she didn’t know anything about a letter from him or a footlocker. Senator Steel rushed back to his campaign headquarters. He and his closest staff stayed there around the clock, as the election was only four days away.

     Also ensconced at the offices, along with the staff and assistants closest to the senator, the guru, Bathomet. They all spent time each day with him, meditating and chant for the senator’s and their own good fortunes. It was to the guru the senator turned now. Together they would ask the masters what to do about his son.

     As far as he could tell, Marta knew nothing about Bradley’s letter, nor did it seem as if Amelia shared anything with her.

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