Everybody's Daughter (21 page)

She bit down hard on her lip, causing it to bleed, and with each kick she winced inwardly.

He struck her rib cage hard. “How do you like it? I learned it from your friend. How does it feel?”

As he got ready to strike her head, one of his soldiers pointed behind him. “Marcus. Look.”

Leah looked behind as well and saw a long line of people trekking up the hill. Many were carrying rocks and sticks.

Marcus shoved Leah aside and waved his spear. “Stay back. This is not your business.”

The group did not halt its march.

Leah stumbled to her feet as Jeremiah pulled her to safety with Sarah.

“Do not leave, Leah, or I will hunt you down,” said Marcus, calling back to them.

The men held up their weapons and circled around the three soldiers.

An elderly man walked up to Marcus. “Leave in peace.”

Marcus’ face turned red. The blue veins in his neck tightened. “You do not give orders to a Roman.”

“You do not belong here.” The man stepped closer to Marcus. “You have terrorized us enough.”

Marcus swung his weapon close to the man’s face. “Old man, you do not tell me what I can or cannot do. Do you want to die?”

“If I must die so others may live, I shall do so. Look around you, Roman. How many of you are here? Now look at us. How many do you see? How many weapons do you have?”

Marcus glanced at the crowd closing in on him and the two soldiers. “We are not here to fight all of you. I am taking what belongs to me.” He pointed to Leah. “She is my woman.”

The elderly man crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Then you shall not leave at all.”

Marcus lifted his spear and pierced the man’s arm, drawing some blood as he fell to the ground.

Several men tossed rocks, one striking Marcus in the face. As the Roman fell, more jumped on him, swinging sticks. The other two soldiers defended their safety by drawing their weapons.

One man aimed a long, makeshift wooden spike at the two soldiers. “Leave and never return.”

The two Romans mounted their horses and rode away.

The crowd cheered.

Leah, Sarah and Jeremiah joined the group surrounding Marcus who lay on the ground, dazed.

“Kill him,” shouted a man.

“Let the woman kill him for what he did to her,” another yelled.

One of the men handed Leah a spear. “It should be you who does this.”

Filled with anger, Leah gripped the weapon and stared at the ground. She noticed how frail Marcus seemed. His breathing, rapid and shallow, reminded her of Yochanan’s last minutes. His forehead bled and his right eye was smashed in.

With all the strength she could muster, Leah raised the spear high above her head and glared. “I hate you.”

He whimpered and squirmed in pain.

“How does it feel, Roman, to crawl toward your death like a filthy donkey? Do you remember watching my husband die and mocking him? How does it feel to have God’s wrath waiting to crush you?” Her eyes bulged with rage. The memories of being raped and beaten by him escalated her fury.

“No.” Marcus begged for compassion. “I ask you for forgiveness. I ask you for your mercy.”

She kicked at his injured side. “Do you remember my husband asking for mercy? Do you? Answer me!”

He squirmed and staggered to one knee, putting up an arm to shield his face.

Leah reached back with all her might, took a deep breath and rammed the sharp part of the spear into the ground near his head.

It didn’t take long for Michael to uncork a bottle of red wine and sink into his chair. As he rocked back and forth, his eyes stayed transfixed on his television set. He rested his head against the back of the chair, the coldness of the cushion matching the frigid fear running through his veins. He closed his eyes and a reel of his daughter played.

The memory was so vivid he reached out to touch her. The reel’s sound soothed his anxiety. Elizabeth sat on the floor, flipping through travel magazines, enjoying a milkshake.

“I want to go to Japan and France and teach English,” she said, her voice pummeling his injured heart. “I want to travel all over the world, Dad.” She held up a magazine with a picture of the Coliseum in Rome. “There’s so much out there to see.”

“And what about me?” he had asked. “You’re going to leave me here all alone?”

She rolled her eyes and let out one of her dramatic long sighs. “Oh, poor Dad, all alone with nobody to yell at. Maybe you’ll finally get a girlfriend.” She giggled. “Are you going to play the parent guilt thing on me until I’m like forty and too old to see the world?”

He pretended to throw a pillow at her. “Forty’s not old.”

She picked up another magazine, one with the Egyptian pyramids on the cover. “I’ll come back and visit you for the holidays. You can come visit me wherever I am. I’ll be your tour guide.”

“I don’t like to fly.”

“You’ll fly for me,” she said with a smile that halted the argument.

It was a debate he never won. Michael was proud of his daughter’s ambition and thirst to travel, something he had never done – until he discovered Jerusalem. Each time she talked about seeing the world, a small piece of his heart tore away. But now, thinking about her ambitions to see the world, he hoped she would be able to realize all her dreams, even if it meant she’d have new adventures without him.

He opened his eyes and finished off the remains of the wine, yet alcohol could not numb his pain. He withdrew upstairs to Elizabeth’s room and sat on her bed, staring at the wall posters, cradling the Pikachu doll in both hands.

He absorbed the iconic picture of the Eiffel Tower, a poster showcasing the bright lights of Tokyo, another displaying an old church in the Holy Land, and an artist’s rendition of Jesus holding a child. He sat in silence until jolted out of his trance by the loud ringing of his telephone.

He answered it. “Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” Allison asked.

“Why are you calling?”

“I’m concerned about my goddaughter.”

“I have nothing to tell you,” he said, slightly slurring his words.

“Are you drinking?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business about Elizabeth.”

“They took my car. There was some blood in it and …” He gripped the phone in anger.
Why am I trying to explain this to her?

“Whose blood?”

“I don’t know. They think it might be Elizabeth’s. So the cops took it.”

“That’s terrible,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Don’t.”

There was an awkward moment of silence between them. “Elizabeth will always be my goddaughter. Despite our differences and what went on between you and Vicki, I’m always there for her.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’d like to interview you for the local paper. This sounds so fascinating and would make a great story. Maybe getting this story out there would help find her.”

“Fascinating? Great story?” he said, remembering what Dennis’ concerns about a circus like atmosphere with the media. “There’s nothing
fascinating
about my daughter missing. Goodnight. Don’t drop by and don’t call.” He hung up the phone and continued to drink. Before he could finish his glass, the phone rang again.

He contemplated not answering it; he wasn’t in the mood for another call from Allison, especially if she was going to make stupid comments about an interview. He reached for the phone, hoping it was good news about his daughter.

“Connie called me and said you were in trouble,” his friend Susan said. “Sometimes I can’t tell with your sister. She’s such an emotional roller coaster and is always nosing in on everyone’s business. Sorry to be so blunt but I’ve had it with her phone calls.”

“Well, this time she’s right.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“Something horrible has happened. Elizabeth’s missing.”

“Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t Connie tell me? Your sister is something. What happened?”

“I have no idea where she is. Well, maybe I do. She followed me down this tunnel and didn’t come back. Or I think she hasn’t. I’m starting to drink again. I’m going crazy. I need a hundred-foot couch to lie on right now.”

“Michael, you’re not making any sense,” she said. “What do you mean?”

“Couch therapy. Going crazy. Need help.”

“Elizabeth’s got to be around somewhere. Have you checked with all her friends?”

“Yes, yes.” He went to the cabinet and retrieved another bottle of wine. “I can’t explain it over the phone. I know it’s a lot to ask but can you drive down here? I won’t be able to sleep and I really need to talk.”

“Let me get a few things together and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He drank as he waited for Susan, knowing it would be at least five hours before she arrived from Massachusetts.

He glanced at the clock – nine-thirty. She would probably arrive by two a.m. He sat in the dark, his body and mind numb, sad, and shocked. He had so many emotions running the gamut through his soul, he couldn’t even shed tears.

At some point he fell asleep as a ringing phone jolted him awake. “Yeah?”

“Michael, it’s getting late and I want to go to bed. How are you?”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Allison.”

He rubbed his eyes and bit back a
leave me alone
retort. “I’m not doing any interviews.”

She clicked her tongue loud enough for him to hear. “That’s not why I’m calling. Have you heard from Elizabeth?”

“Nothing.”

“I’ll come by now. You shouldn’t be alone on a night like this.”

“I told you it isn’t necessary.” He yawned and stretched his legs to ease the cramping in his calves. “Anyway, I won’t be alone. Susan’s on her way now.”

“Susan? The redhead?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, that Susan.”

Allison hung up the phone.

“Good. I don’t have time for your drama,” he said to the dial tone.

He exhaled, rolling his aching shoulder forward. He stretched his arms and picked up the half empty wine glass. He dumped the remainder of the alcohol into the sink and washed the dirty dishes. The noise of the running water was soothing, disrupting the unbearable silence of the house. He studied each plate, the grime in each part, before scrubbing it away. He took periodic glances at the clock, studying the third hand ticking away, much like he did when he was back in high school waiting for lunch break.

The doorbell rang.

Susan. Thank goodness.

He ran to the door, yanked it open wide and embraced her in a tight hug.

“I was just in the neighborhood.” She patted him on the back and studied him. “You look terrible. You’ve been watching too many Mets games. Are you getting any heat from your Yankees friends for wearing the jacket I gave you?”

“Of course.”

She smiled. “I know. Have you been wearing it?”

He nodded. “They call me Judas. Little do they know I knew the man.”

“What? You must be in a state of shock. That makes no sense.”

“It’ll make sense later.” He closed the door behind her. “Let’s get you settled first.”

“How about you get us both something to eat and drink?”

“Yes, of course. What would you like?”

She set her pocketbook down on the table. “A glass of cold water to start.”

“Thanks for coming. How was the trip?”

Removing her shoes, she said, “Clear sailing on ninety-five.” She waved her hand. “You’d do the same for me. Or I think you would? Right?”

“Sure.” He led her into the living room. “How long can you stay?”

“How long do you need me to stay?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“Well, when you are sure, let me know. I have some vacation time I can use.” She pointed to the hallway. “I’m going to freshen up.”

Ten minutes later, Susan joined him in the kitchen. He filled a pitcher with ice cubes and water, cut a piece of chocolate pound cake, and set her a place at the kitchen table.

She sat across from him. “Mmmm. Chocolate cake. You do know a way to a woman’s heart,” she said with a wink.

He smiled weakly. “I have black licorice too.”

She placed a paper napkin on her knee. “I’m impressed. You remembered.”

“I did.”

She smiled and drank some water. “Tell me what happened.”

He took in her large, baby blue eyes, sparkling as they always did. Her hair looked more brown than the red he remembered and she seemed to have lost weight. “Please have something. I feel bad enough I asked you to drive all this way.”

“Okay, I’ll eat, you talk.” She broke off a piece of cake with her fingers and popped it in her mouth. “And don’t leave anything out.”

He turned, opened a cupboard drawer and took out a fork. “Sorry, I forgot this.”

She took it and cut into her piece of cake.

“Okay, where to begin?” He lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I found this gateway in the old church on Main Street.”

“Our church?”

“Yes. The gateway opened today. I went into it again. I’d been there before. Anyway, it led me to this tunnel and –”

Susan stopped chewing and waved her fork. “Whoa. I’m confused. I’ve been in that basement. There is no gateway or tunnel. You’re not making any sense.”

“I know. I’m trying to digest it all myself.” He explained how the tunnel had opened four months ago, leading him and Elizabeth to first century Jerusalem during the last week of Christ’s life. “I witnessed the crucifixion.”

He mentioned Leah only for a moment, neglecting to share his romantic feelings for the Jewish widow. Susan remained silent. He described his experience at the Sermon on the Mount. “I met Jesus. I spoke to Him.”

Her expression was vacant.

“He took me into this cave and it was like watching a movie of my life. I…I even saw Vicki briefly.” He didn’t go into the intimate details of his visit with his wife but he did tell her about the visions he’d witnessed. When he finished, he sat and poured himself a glass of water, gulping it down in one long haul.

Susan’s eyes widened, her irises turning a darker shade of blue. She looked stunned. “I…I have no words.” She poured herself a glass of water and took several sips. “I think I believe you, even though I can’t get my mind around it all. Should I believe you?” Her expression glistened with wonder. “It’s just so surreal. You met Jesus? Are you sure?”

“As sure as I see you sitting across from me now.”

“Really? Jesus?”

He got up and paced around the kitchen. “You don’t believe me.”

“Come back in here. Can you blame me if this all sounds a bit far-fetched?”

Michael got on his knees in front of her and held her hands. “Susan, you’re my best friend. I need you. My daughter is gone and I’m afraid I might do something crazy. I know this sounds like I’m ready for a strait jacket. But I know what I saw. And I know that my daughter is somewhere back there, perhaps alone in a dangerous world.”

She squeezed his hands. “Connie told me she saw the tunnel or some opening.”

“She’s not sure whether Elizabeth went down there after me. She thinks she did but isn’t a hundred percent sure.”

“Why isn’t she sure?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t stick around the basement the whole time.”

Susan sighed. “Figures.”

“You sound like Allison.”

“Don’t even compare me to that woman.” Her cheeks reddened. “You know how I feel about her. What she said about you after Vicki died.”

“It doesn’t matter. We know the truth.”

“I know the drill.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re getting off track here. Who else knows about this trip you took?”

He got up and paced. “Dennis.”

“Dennis?”

“Yeah, the pastor.”

“Oh. What does he think?”

“He believes me.” He stopped pacing and leaned against the fridge. “Or I think he does. I don’t know at this point. He has this old book we found in the basement. He said there’ve been other incredible stories transcribed by the previous pastors.”

She stared at him, not offering any advice. He found that odd since Susan had been his sounding board for years, lifting him up during his roughest days. “I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to say or do. I’ll admit I’m still in shock at what you told me.” Her expression turned from wonder to melancholy. “I’m not any help at all with this.”

“Of course you are. You’re helping by just being here with me and not calling nine-one-one to cart me away.”

She smiled. “Okay, let’s look at this a different way. Nobody knows for sure if Elizabeth went through the tunnel.” She held her hand up. “I know. Connie claims she did. But I’m not convinced your sister is one hundred percent on the ball half the time anyway. But for argument’s sake, let’s say Elizabeth did go into the tunnel. So she’s back in Jerusalem and when she can’t find you there, she turns around and comes back.”

“Then why isn’t she here yet?” Michael asked.

Susan chewed her bottom lip, seeming to be deep in thought. “Maybe, when she came back to this century, the tunnel led her to another city and she’s trying to figure out how to get home. She’s mature for her age, resourceful. I’m sure she’s doing what she can to get back home. Did she have her cell phone with her?”

“No. She left it behind. Look, this all sounds plausible, but she knows how much I worry. Don’t you think she’d get to a phone booth, a police station, even a church to get a message to me?”

“That’s true.” Susan nodded her head, then rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll get up early, go to the church and take a look in the basement. Let’s see if we can find out who else was in the church when this tunnel opened. Maybe someone saw her. We’ll ask Pastor Dennis if we can read the book. Maybe there’s something in there he hasn’t seen that could help us. Have you looked in other places in the church for another opening?”