Michael held his hip as he exited the hospital. He groaned in pain as Susan opened the passenger side door for him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You were in there a while. What happened?”
“Took a test. I was there longer than I expected.”
“You look like you’re in a lot of pain,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“I’ve got Tylenol and some pain killers.”
“I didn’t know you had a problem with your hip.”
“I didn’t.”
She gave him a perplexed glance.
“I’m okay.” He smiled. “Can you take me back to the Temple?”
“Shouldn’t you go home and rest?”
He shook his head. “Temple’s the safest place to be right now.”
Main Street was abuzz with holiday shoppers. He crouched down below the window.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Hiding.”
“Do you have bail money?”
He looked up at her in disbelief.
“I need to ask you this just in case.”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Thanks for being my best friend.”
She stopped her car behind the old firehouse. “Should I wait here?”
“Yes. I just want to get something from the pastor. I’ll be right back.”
She gave him an odd look and turned off her lights and engine. “You mean Dennis?”
“No, I mean the pastor.”
Michael limped to the door and tapped a few times. The rabbi’s secretary greeted him. “What are you doing out here?” Marla asked.
“I need to use the passageway.”
“Rabbi Stedman isn’t here but come in.”
She led him downstairs, handing him a candle and wished him well. When Michael reached the church side, he gently tapped on the door. He struck the wooden structure again yet there was still no answer. He sat down for a few minutes and listened, hoping to hear some movement. “Hello?” he said weakly, bending down near the bottom of the door. “Is anyone there?”
“Who is it?” asked a low voice.
“Michael. Is the pastor there?”
The door opened and Allison answered. “There are no dead people here. However, the pastor is waiting for you.”
She led him to his office and banged on the door twice. “He’s here.”
Allison left and Dennis unlocked the door and pulled him in. “Where were you?”
He winced. “I had something to do.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” He hobbled to a chair. “I just needed to take a test. That’s all. What about the book? We’re running out of time.”
“I know. One thing we do know for sure, you must stay inside the church. I’ve called Connie and your father for a special prayer service.”
“Jim? Why him?”
“Connie asked if he could join us. I said yes.”
Michael grimaced.
“He’s your father.”
“So I keep getting reminded. Is he even coming?”
“He is.”
“What time are we doing this?” he asked.
“In an hour.”
“Susan’s outside by the Temple,” Michael said. “Can you let her know she doesn’t need to wait for me?” He stretched his leg out. “Connie told me this morning about the TV report regarding the headlights story.”
The pastor paled. “I don’t know how they found out. Only you, Robert, the rabbi and I know about it.”
“Only them? Are you sure?”
The pastor shuffled the piece of paper around in the book.
“What is that?” Michael asked.
He handed a newspaper clipping to him and Michael read it in silence. “I don’t care about this right now. I need your help to find a way back.” Michael ripped up the article and tossed it in the garbage can. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t tell anybody.”
Dennis kicked at the can. “Someone told the reporters. I should have come forth a long time ago.”
“You can deny it.”
“And continue to live a lie.”
“I’ve lived one too.”
“It’s not the way to live, Michael.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. What’s been the response from the people here?”
Dennis scratched the back of his head. “I’ve had hate emails and some heated phone calls. We’ve even had people threaten to remove their financial support from the church.
“I’ve made some big mistakes. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since my wife and daughter left me. After the accident, I drowned myself in alcohol.” He kicked at the garbage can again. “I drank so much I ruined my marriage and my relationship with my daughter.”
“Dennis,” Michael said. “It’s time for both of us to forgive ourselves. I need you now. As a friend.”
The pastor wiped his eyes with a stray tissue lying on his desk. “I’ll go let Susan know she doesn’t have to wait for you.”
The church lights dimmed and Dennis lit several candles.
Connie arrived early and sat in the first pew. “Allison left another message.”
“What did she want this time?”
“She was so angry I couldn’t understand most of it. She said you made her look like a fool or something.”
“What?”
“About seeing Vicki.”
“Forget about her.” Michael fidgeted. “Where’s Jim?” he asked.
“There he is,” she said, standing up and waving to their father.
Dennis shook their hands and took a step toward the podium. A pounding on the back door disrupted them. “Open up, Pastor. It’s Kevin Holligan.”
He ignored the noise. “Let me say I’m happy to see your family here.”
“Let me in, Pastor.”
“Go ahead,” Michael said. “Let him in.”
“Are you sure?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Dennis took the keys out of his pocket and opened the door. The glare of the TV lights shone inside the church as a few men forced their way in. “Only Kevin comes in.”
“Sorry, Pastor, but I’ve given you enough time with this charade.”
Hewitt Paul was an imposing figure at six-foot-eight. He was wide shouldered, built like a brick house, and dressed like a GQ model. His voice was clear, forceful and deep pitched, perfect for a high profile authority figure. Another man settled in the back pew, kneeling and praying while Special Agent Holligan stood beside Special Agent Paul, glaring at Michael.
Kevin walked in behind Hewitt Paul. “You should have listened to Connie,” Kevin said. “Now I can’t help you. Just like the night you didn’t help my sister.”
Michael got up and took a few steps toward the basement entrance.
“You can run but we’ve got all the doors blocked,” Paul said. “I don’t know how you got out of here to go to the hospital but it doesn’t matter now.”
Michael looked at the two agents in surprise.
“Oh, you didn’t know we knew you were there?” Paul said. “I respected your situation. Now I have my job to do. I have no tolerance for adults who prey on kids.”
“I didn’t prey on my daughter.”
“Why is her blood in your car? And in your house? And where is she?”
“I don’t know how her blood got there. And I don’t know where she is.”
“He’s lying,” Kevin said.
“I agree,” Paul replied. “I’ve seen enough cases like this. A man frustrated with his life, his inability to keep up with his bills, unable to forge a satisfying relationship, takes it out on his daughter, usually someone not strong enough to defend herself.”
Dennis was finally able to lock the door, scolding the TV reporters who were trying to film the confrontation. “Can you people have some respect?” he yelled, waving at Allison who was standing to the extreme left. “No recording devices are allowed in here.”
“Michael,” Kevin said, “Come with us peacefully and I’ll try to see if we can get you a reasonable bail.”
“And what if you can’t?”
“I’ll try. I’ll certainly try more than you have. Whoever heard of a father who didn’t organize search parties for his missing daughter?”
Dennis appeared oblivious to the discussion, pulling out a box from a closet. He examined what looked liked pieces for the manger setup.
Paul turned to him and looked puzzled. “What are you doing, Pastor?”
“Setting up for our prayer service. Just go about your business,” Dennis replied, walking up the steps near the curtain before placing the Mary and Joseph figures near the empty crib. He pulled out several animals and moved them around the nativity scene. “Michael, do you have your cloth for the baby? Can you help me with this?”
Inside the box was the baby Jesus, the one Mrs. Farmer donated. “Dennis, they’re going to take me now. You know I can’t go. Help me.”
“Michael, I can’t help you anymore. You now have to help yourself.” He gestured for him to place the baby Jesus in the crib.
Michael picked the baby Jesus up and walked toward the crèche, knowing the FBI agents were right behind him.
Paul pulled his handcuffs out as Holligan reached for his gun.
Jim’s cell phone buzzed. Michael stopped and looked at his dad.
“Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Stewart.” He paused. “Oh hello, doctor.” He listened for a moment. “He did? Thank you. Thank you very much.” He shut off the phone and stared at Michael.
“Everything is set. You’re a match.” He paused. “Thank you, son.”
Connie hugged her father as Michael knelt down, holding the baby tight, clinging to the cloth. Paul hurried a few more steps with the handcuffs in his hands.
“Leave my son alone!” his father shouted. He struck Paul in the face as he passed the pew, knocking the handcuffs to the ground. Jim fell on top of the special agent.
“Mr. Stewart,” shouted Holligan. “You just struck an FBI agent.”
“I’ll hit you too,” he said with anger.
Michael heard Dennis yell.
“Allison, what are you doing?”
She pointed a .22 caliber gun. Dennis stepped in front of Michael, putting his hands out. “Give me that before you hurt someone.”
The special agents rushed to stop her. Paul pushed Jim off of him and yelled, “Put your weapon down.”
Allison fired.
Dennis collapsed, holding his side.
“Why?” Michael yelled, running to aid his friend.
Blood poured out of Dennis’ wound as he tried to stand up. “Michael, leave. Now.”
Michael’s legs wobbled as he held the baby wrapped in the cloth. A hot fire raged inside his head and seethed through his chest, arms, and legs. Dizzy, his mind flooded with images of his birth, baptism, communion, and his wedding.
Michael saw his father struggling with the special agents. Two men wrestled the gun out of Allison’s hand and handcuffed her. Dennis didn’t move. His eyes were open and glassy.
Connie screamed, running first to Dennis and then toward Michael. “Mike, are you all right?”
Michael’s brain instructed him to speak yet he couldn’t.
What’s happening? Was I shot?
He felt lightheaded as his mind contorted random thoughts.
The baby flayed his arms and kicked his feet, crying.
What? This is a ceramic doll. How could it be moving and crying?
Michael shook his head, trying to clear his grogginess.
He closed his eyes tight as his stomach roiled with nausea. The air around him smelled like blood and death. Michael opened his eyes and looked around, confused at the unfamiliar landscape. He was outdoors, surrounded by heavy brush and trees. He shivered as he listened to piercing screams of terror.
Still lightheaded, he hid behind a large bush with the baby wrapped in a small, thin cloth, squirming with vigor. He opened the wrap a bit and realized it was a live baby boy. But whose?
“Leave my child alone,” shrieked a woman, chasing a soldier armed with a sword and spear.
Michael sought safety to his right but witnessed a man pleading for mercy as another soldier ended the life of a newborn with a spear to the heart.
“Oh, God. No.”
The soldier left the motionless baby on the ground as the man buckled, wailing as he picked up his son.
I’m back but when and where am I?
Michael understood his Biblical history well enough to know about King Herod and his ruthless pursuit to kill the baby Jesus by instituting an order to eliminate all young males. Could this possibly be the time? And how would he find Elizabeth now? Was this a sign that she had entered this time?
The screaming and mournful pleas quieted. Many men and women hugged, comforting and consoling each other. Michael kept himself hidden from grieving parents and leaned back to take the strain off his knees. The baby cried softly, moving his arms and kicking his legs.
“Shhh, little one. We need to be quiet.”
He pulled the baby’s face closer to his chest, trying to muffle the boy’s tormented cries. “Here, feel my heart beat. It worked for Elizabeth. It can work for you.” Then he did something he hadn’t done in nearly fourteen years. He provided a baby with a natural pacifier – his thumb.
It seemed to soothe the boy as the couple to his right continued their mourning.
This has to be Herod and his order to kill the newborns.
“Who are you?” he said in a hushed tone, watching the boy close his eyes as his suckling slowed. Michael never let go of the baby. He sat up at an angle behind the bush so he could see both sides. In the far distance, there was a small town. Candles and torches glowed from the stone homes.
I’ll travel that way when everyone has left. Maybe I can find the parents there. There has to be someone who left the boy here. Maybe this is why I’m here? To save a life so Elizabeth can come back? Maybe this is the miracle?
Michael waited until the last lingering pair of weeping parents staggered away. He rubbed the baby’s gums, not only to keep the boy quiet but to calm his nerves. As he took a few steps in the direction of the town, a cool breeze sent a shiver up his spine.
This baby can freeze to death out here. I need to get him near a fire.
What if this baby doesn’t belong in this time? Maybe I have to get him back to our time? Is this your son, God? Tell me. Send me a sign, anything. If I return the baby, will this lead me to Elizabeth?
He struggled in indecision, wondering if he should wait for the parents to return. He put the sleeping baby down, stroking his legs and arms to warm him up.
I’ll grab some branches and try to start a fire by this bush.
He crawled on his knees, keeping his head up, and gathered broken branches from a tree. He carefully pulled part of the bush down and sat on it, pressing it so it would give him a partial campfire. Then he rubbed the sticks together.
I can do this. I’ve done it as a kid. Yeah, it’s been a long time. But I’m a modern day man, capable of doing anything.
He stroked the branches together in a feverish pace to light a spark.
Okay, no more doing it the caveman’s way.
He first whacked the sticks together and then massaged them with more force. A small flame ignited. He covered the stick with one hand and set it below some small leaves on the bush. It caught and the fire rose slowly. He moved the baby closer to the fire as the glow shone on his face.
“I’ll get you home. Then I’ll find Elizabeth and we can go home. And everyone can live happily ever after. Right? Just like our parents told us,” he whispered to the baby.
The fire roared as it caught some more brush. Already the baby felt warmer.
A stinging pain poked at the lower part of his body.
Was I just bit by a bug or an animal?
He turned around and saw a soldier, holding a spear. “Please, don’t hurt us,” Michael said, picking up the baby and putting the cross around his neck.
“Where are you from?”
“Far away. Not of this town. We are no danger to your King.”
“How do I know that?” the soldier asked, adjusting the position of his spear to Michael’s neck.
“We got lost. I need to get my daughter back to my wife. We were visiting with friends,” he said, hoping he had managed to deceive the soldier.
“I will not take the chance and face the wrath of the king.”
“Please sir, please.”
“What kind of clothes are these?” he said, moving his spear from his sweatshirt to his sweat pants. “And what kind of shoes are these?”
“I am from a far away town. We have different customs.”
“Let me see if the baby is a girl.”
Michael hesitated, trying to think of another lie. He began to remove the cloth and stopped. “I’m sorry. He’s my son. I have to protect him. My wife would be devastated. She would kill herself if I didn’t bring him back alive.”
“I do not care. I would rather she die than have the king kill me.” He poked Michael in the shoulder with this spear. “Lay the baby down on the ground and leave. I am not here to kill you.”
“Please don’t,” Michael begged, noticing the baby’s eyes had opened. The boy started to kick and coo a little, sucking on his thumb again. He gave the baby a kiss on the cheek and wiped away the drool from his thumb on the side of his pants, jingling some of the coins.
“Leave now. I will spare you the agony of watching your son’s death.”
Michael scrambled inside his pocket to unearth the coins. “Wait!” he shouted. “I have silver. Plenty of it.”
The soldier lowered his weapon. “Show me.”
Michael opened his other hand, displaying the coins he had found the first time during Holy Week. He also had the coins he took from Rita’s attic in the other pocket.
The soldier grabbed the coins. “Do not go toward the lights,” he said. “If my commander sees you are with the baby, he will know I did not carry out my orders from the king.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go. Move quickly. Do not stop to rest.”
“I will.”
Michael snuggled the boy against his chest.
It’s so dark out here. I don’t even know where I’m going.
He could feel the baby shiver. Without a coat, the one he took off back at the church for the prayer service, he realized his options were limited to keep the child warm. So he removed his sweatshirt, with only his thin white t-shirt to fend off the cold breeze of the night.
Lord, what do I do now? Where am I going? Send me a sign.