Everybody's Daughter (18 page)

“I am who you are looking for.”

“My friend said you can save her. Can you heal her? She is young. She has much life and love to give.”

“I do not need to perform a miracle to convince one of who I am. She has much love to give in my Father’s Kingdom.”

“Where is this Kingdom you speak about?”

“When my Father calls you, you shall see.”

“Get away from her. You cannot help her.”

“I can.”

“What about her father? He will be broken-hearted. He needs to know.”

He placed his hands on Leah’s face. “Do not weep, woman, for my Father’s Kingdom grants eternal life to all.”

Leah gave a puzzled look to the preacher and glanced at Elizabeth’s lifeless body. Big puddles formed all around them as the glimmer of white light grew, embracing Elizabeth’s face.

“She is dead. You cannot heal her. Sarah’s friend was wrong.”

“Woman, she is already healed.”

The preacher held Elizabeth’s hands. “My daughter, your work here is done for now.”

Jim left and Michael asked Connie and Allison to scour the kitchen and living room for more notes or clues. Michael returned to Elizabeth’s bedroom and tore it apart, rummaging through a pile of papers stacked near her computer.

A few moments later, Allison appeared at the doorway. “Besides Lady Gaga references, anything else in particular you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m missing something. A note from someone that might help me find her. Maybe an email that would tell me who she’s been talking to recently. A password to her email account, in case there’s something in there that could tell us if she was planning on going anywhere today without telling me.”

He pulled out several drawers, the remains fluttering to the floor. He swatted at papers much like an old man shooing away a fly on a humid day, desperate for any sign.

“Was she upset about something?” Allison asked. “Was there another boy she talked about?”

“She only mentioned that Matt kid.” He opened books and shook out the pages, hoping something would fall out. “I wonder if she did go to that Lady Gaga concert.”

“Lady Gaga? Yeah, she’s in the city for her tour. Teenage girls don’t confide to their dads about their crushes. Maybe she’s talked to one of her girlfriends. Have you talked to any of them?”

He rattled another drawer. “No, I don’t think this has anything to do with a boy.” He sat on the floor tossing each unimportant item to the far corner of the room. “Wait, this might be it,” he said, holding up an email copy of the Lady Gaga concert information. “I bet she decided to go to the city today after I told her she couldn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This was printed after I told her she couldn’t go.”

“Well, this reminds me of my younger days,” Allison said. “I could tell you some stories of my teenage years.”

“You don’t have to. Your dad has already filled me in,” he said with some edge.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Right.” He stood and headed to the doorway. “I’m calling the cops.”

After speaking to one of the detectives about his theory, he hung up and frowned.

“What did they say?” Allison asked.

“They can’t help me. There are thousands of kids at the concert so it’ll be difficult to even spot her. They advised me to wait a few hours and see if she calls me.”

While waiting, he contacted several of Elizabeth’s friends. One parent told him her daughter was supposed to meet Elizabeth at the train station. “I dropped Kacie off but left before the train came. So I don’t know. But I can text her to find out,” said Mrs. French.

His theory hit one dead end after another. Elizabeth never responded to any of the text messages from the kids meeting her for the concert.

Maybe she was too embarrassed to tell them I said no?

“They thought that she wasn’t allowed to go,” Mrs. French said in a follow up call. “I don’t blame you. I don’t like Kacie listening to that kind of music but since there were five of them going together, I gave her permission to go.”

Michael sighed in despair. “She bought a ticket but never showed up with the other kids. It doesn’t mean she isn’t there. Right?”

But he knew the answer.

“Where are you going now?” Allison yelled from behind him.

He yanked the front door open. He ran to the garage, lifted the door, and pushed the lawnmower aside. Kicking at several beach chairs, he cleared a path to the back. “There it is.”

He picked the object up and shoved several old bags of clothes aside for good measure.

“What are you looking for?” Allison asked out of breath as she reached the garage.

“This,” he said, holding up a shiny, unused ax.

Her eyes widened. “Why do you need that?”

“For the church.”

“You’re nuts.” She pushed her curly, brown hair away from her eyes. “Why do you need that for church?”

Michael flew past her, grabbed his keys and cell phone and hopped into his car.

“Wait, wait for me,” yelled Connie, running out the door.

“You’re brother’s gone crazy. We have to stop him,” Allison said.

Michael didn’t hear his sister’s response as his car screeched, making a sharp u-turn on the narrow street, barreling into a neighbor’s mailbox. He made Main Street his personal raceway, arriving at the church in a matter of minutes. Not caring, he snagged a handicapped parking space in front of the church and raced up the steps.

Dennis was at the pulpit, delivering a sermon. “We must forget our disputes, our anger toward each other. This is a time for hope, promise, and love. We are human. We are weak at times. We make mistakes. Forgive yourself. Forgive others.”

Michael carried his ax on his left side, trying to hide it from the congregation.

Several in the crowd muttered to each other as the ceiling lights reflected off the pristine weapon.

“…and help your neighbors,” Dennis continued, stopping in mid-sentence, as Michael stampeded to the basement stairs.

“Debbie,” Dennis whispered, pointing to the podium and moving the microphone closer to her face. “Sing.”

“Me?” she said, loud enough for Michael to hear.

“Yes. You. Sing,” Dennis repeated. “I have to leave for a few minutes.”

“What am I supposed to sing?” she asked.

“You were a DJ at your college radio station. Kumbaya. That’s our Stairway to Heaven. Don’t stop until I return.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Michael swung the ax awkwardly against the ground, trying to break up the cement floor.

“Michael,” Dennis called out. “What are you doing?”

“Stay out of my way,” he said, stopping momentarily to rest his arms. “There’s no other choice.”

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Dennis held up his hand. “Stop it now!”

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

He pounded the ax against the floor, managing to chop up a few pieces of concrete.

“This isn’t the way to get back, Michael.”

“I can’t wait for your prayers to deliver me the answers I need.” He pushed Dennis away, then wound up and swung as hard as he could.

Thump.

The ax vibrated in his hands as it struck the ground, dislodging another small piece. He rested a moment, his arms weary. He rubbed his right shoulder, massaging the pain. Breathing deep, he held the ax to his side. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I know she’s alive. I heard her talking to me. She’s lost. I know it sounds crazy. But being able to go back to that time is just as crazy.” He caught his breath. “You have no idea what it’s like to love a daughter and then to think you can’t help her when she needs you.”

“I do have an idea.”

“How?”

“You need to calm down. We must look at this in a rational way or we will never be able to figure out what to do.”

“Rational? Is there anything happening to me that is rational?”

“I know this. You need to control yourself.”

Michael shook his head.

“I was married and had a daughter many years ago before I found my calling. So yes, I do know what you’re talking about.”

Skeptical, Michael was unsure how to respond. “What do you mean you were married?”

“I had a family until I ruined it.”

“What happened?”

“A long story for another time. Now isn’t the time to discuss this.”

Michael dropped the ax as Connie and Allison arrived in the basement. They both said something but the only sound he could hear now was the faint muffled voices of Debbie and the congregation, singing Kumbaya.

“I’ve got to get back upstairs,” Dennis said, pointing at Michael. “Stay down here. I’ll come back when the service is done and we’ll talk. We’re going to discuss what happened. I need to find out what Jesus said to you about forgiveness and healing. It’s important.”

Why is this so important right now? For God’s sake, my daughter is missing.
He stared at the ax and the fragmented pieces of cement scattered across the floor.

“Thank God,” said Connie. “I thought you were going to kill someone.”

He leaned against the wall. “I don’t have the energy to kill anyone. Go home.”

“Michael, call me later,” Allison said. “Even if it’s late. I can come over if you want. I’ll be up and I won’t go to sleep until I hear from you. Okay? Text me if you have to. Do you need my number?”

Michael gave her a surprised look. “No. I don’t need your number. And there’s no story here for you.”

He blew out a tired breath.

“What do you want me to do?” Connie asked.

“Go back to my house and wait there in case Elizabeth shows up.”

“I don’t have my car.”

“Take my car,” he said, handing her the keys.

Michael kicked at the pieces of cement and swung the ax again.

“Elizabeth Ellen Stewart, Elizabeth Ellen Stewart.” Choru
s
es of voices I don’t recognize sing my name.

I feel the wind hoist my feet, the feathery feel sweeping through my arms, my body hovering as I float high.

I drift to the heavens and I see Mommy and Daddy. They look a lot younger, especially Dad. He doesn’t have gray hair. They both look beautiful, standing in a packed church. Mommy and Daddy are giving each other shiny and sparkly rings.

Dad, you look handsome in a new suit and Mommy is so pretty in her long, white wedding dress. There you stand, happy, hopeful, and full of dreams. I’m so glad I was part of your dream.

Kiss her, Dad.

Wow, Dad, I’ve never seen you kiss a woman. I thought it would be gross. But it’s a beautiful sight. Can you kiss her again?

I float a bit higher. I can’t see them any longer.

Where did my dad go?

Oh, there he is, rocking a baby in his arms. Rocking and singing to the baby. That baby must be me. How lucky I am to be able to see you talking to me when I was so little.

You look sad, Dad. I know in my heart you were happy the day I was born, but it must have been so hard for you to be happy on the day Mom went to heaven. I was a lucky little girl to have you, Daddy, taking good care of me.

I float side to side as I head for the light up ahead, a light that sparkles much like the stars in the night sky. I hug Daddy as I float by. I can see a brilliant star shining, a light blue figure so big yet so far.

I now pass my third grade class. I’m in the school yard, gi
g
gling as my best friend sings my favorite song. I’m running around with my friends playing tag. My classmates smile, then fade away and now I see Dad
smiling with pride as he watches me graduate middle school.

I see many fruits; big red apples and sunshine yellow pears, apricots and melons, the juices quench my thirst. A lavender smell fortifies me and flowers climb and surround me. Yellow and red roses stroke my face.

My head is free of pain, my legs ready to spring. I’m ready to run a race but don’t know where to go. How long is this jou
r
ney, my Lord? Do I need to run faster?

I soar above heaven’s gate; a soft, soothing light pink light shines upon my face. I feel the warmth, unlike any I’ve ever felt. My skin feels tingly. I absorb the love in my soul. It burns. I need not listen to hear the Lord. His face, calm and assured, points to an angel who will hold me tight as I take a deeper flight. The angel is strong, her hands so firm. She’s smiling and singing my favorite songs. My angel gives me a tight hug as we arrive at our final stop. Her face turns Brandeis blue and tang
e
rine. I reach for her and my arms shine like cherries hanging from a branch. A flute hums a familiar tune softly. “How much is that doggy in the window?” she sings. I laugh. Daddy, you sang that to me many times before I fell asleep.

The Angel leads me through this misty fog. Mom is waiting there for me. I see Grandma Rebecca too. She looks peaceful and happy. Their faces glow in light shades of blue. I wave to them and they tell me to sit still.

“Your worries are over, no more tears to cry, no more pain to mend, no more sorrow to console,” my Angel proclaims. “Tell your dad you are home.”

I’m finally home, Dad. I feel so warm. Mom is right next to me. She tells me she talks to you all the time. She says you need to listen more. She’s holding me, Dad. I wish you could hold us now.

I miss you, Dad. Thank you for loving me so much, for a
l
ways being there. I do wish we could visit our favorite ice cream shop together one more time. I’m sorry I worried you sometimes when I was out so late. I’m sorry I didn’t clean my room when you asked. I’m sorry I left the lights on. I’m sorry when I fibbed about where I was going. I always loved you and always will.

I want to cry, Dad, I really do, but where I am right now, there is no sadness, no regrets, no tears, no pain, no sorrow. I still miss you but I know I’ll see you again one day.

Please, Dad, try not to miss me or be sad like you were when Mom died, because then I will feel your pain and won’t be able to experience this eternal happiness. Remember, you will see us someday.

Some will tell you, Dad, my time was short. It wasn’t. I see many young people here. Younger than me. I’m luckier than a lot of people. I had a mother who gave her life for me and you, Dad, who made sacrifices and worked so hard to give me a happy home.

It’s time for me to leave, Dad. I’m safe now. I’ll see you again. There’s more work for you to do. This is what mom just told me. Then we’ll hug each other again. I love you, Daddy.