Jim fidgeted in his pocket as they drove in the agents’ car. He took out a cigarette. “Anyone have a light?”
“No smoking. Trumble Court,” Holligan said to the driver.
“Why are we going back to Michael’s house?” asked Connie.
“It’s the closest place to talk.”
“My father needs to get to the hospital.”
“In due time.”
“No. Now.”
“I need five minutes.”
“But I don’t have the keys,” Connie lied.
“I do.”
Connie gave Kevin a dirty look. “I guess you can get anyone’s keys.”
“No. I got it from the pastor.”
“Why would he give them to you?”
“Who cares how he got the keys,” said Jim. “And just what do you expect to find there?”
“Maybe he left a note or something. Was he suicidal? Was he on drugs? Drinking a lot?”
“No and no,” replied Connie.
“Maybe Elizabeth left another note?” Kevin asked. “For my sister’s sake I have to try anything I can to help Elizabeth. Two people just don’t vanish into thin air. Do they?”
Connie glared at him. “Well, you’re the FBI agent. Why don’t you tell us?”
“I’m getting a headache,” Jim said. “I need a drink.”
“Is that your answer to every crisis? A drink?” Kevin asked.
“You want a good smack in the mouth,” Jim said, his face turning red.
“Give it your best shot, old man,” Kevin leaned sideways to face him.
Jim reached over Connie and swung wildly, smacking him in the nose with the back of his closed fist.
Connie screamed as the enraged agent climbed over her to grab Jim’s neck with both hands, squeezing hard.
“Sir! Sir! Do you need help?” asked the special agent driving the car.
“Keep driving. I need to teach the old man a lesson.”
“Stop! Stop it, Kevin, you’re choking him,” she begged.
Jim coughed and tried to pull Kevin’s grip apart.
Connie struck Kevin in the back of the head and bit his arm.
”You little whore,” Kevin said, releasing his grip while catching some blood from his battered nose with his hands.
“I’ve been called worse.” She turned to her father. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said in a scratchy voice. “How’s the nose, big shot?”
“I’ll show you who’s a big shot when I get out of the car.”
“What are you going to do? I’m seventy-five years old. You’re going to beat up an old man? You can’t hurt me more than I already am.”
“What would you know about being hurt?” Kevin asked.
“My wife died before she could see her grandchildren born. My youngest daughter passed away earlier this year. Now my son and Elizabeth are both missing and I don’t know if I’ll live to see them again. What are you going to do to me that will cause more pain?”
There was silence in the car as they rolled up the hill to Michael’s house. No one moved. Kevin took a few tissues from the backseat compartment and attended to his bloody nose.
Jim asked, “What do you want from us?”
“Answers so I can do my job and find my niece.” Kevin took a deep breath and sighed. “Bobby, stop the car and let them out.”
“Sir? What about what Special Agent Paul said?”
“Let them go. I’ll deal with him.”
The special agent got out and opened the back passenger side door near the curb.
“I’ll let you know if we hear anything,” Kevin said.
Jim walked away and waved. “Don’t drop by any time soon.”
Kevin gave the keys to Connie. “Call me immediately if you hear from Elizabeth or Michael.”
She nodded, caught up to her father and helped him inside.
“Now what?” Connie asked.
“I don’t know. We wait, I guess.”
Connie turned on the lights and adjusted the thermostat to give the room more heat. “I’m going to call your doctor for an appointment.”
“I’ll deal with it later.”
“Why are you waiting?”
He didn’t answer. She waved her hands in the air, shouting, “Men. I don’t understand any of you.” She sat at the kitchen table for a second and then poured some water into a kettle and lit the stove. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“Tea?” he asked, walking into the kitchen, shaking his head. He opened all the cupboards. “Here we go,” he said, grabbing a bottle. “Look at the year on this one. He doesn’t drink whiskey, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t drink that stuff. He kept it here for you in case you ever decided to visit him.”
He took a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself a hefty fill and went back to the living room. He settled into Michael’s recliner, rocking back and forth.
“In case you would rather drink this.” Connie followed him with a cup of tea. She placed it on the end table next to him and sat on the sofa.
Her father took a long swig of his whiskey. “Life can be so cruel for some people. Why did your mother, Vicki and Sammie have to die before I did?”
You’re so pickled with all that booze, you’ll live forever.
Connie watched the steam drift from her cup. “No clue.”
“There’s little left in my life.”
Like I have time for this pity party. The man never changes.
“Stop talking that way.”
“There isn’t. My life ended when your mother died. She was so young.”
“Vicki and Sammie were young too.” She took a sip of tea. “Michael was even younger than you were when he was widowed.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
She shrugged.
He took a big gulp and held the glass up to examine the liquid. “Did you know when Michael found a job and I found out he was going to move in with Aunt Adele, I got on the phone and told her not to help him?”
Connie shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that. Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to give him the same tough love my father gave to me. Did I ever tell you when I came home from the war the first thing my father said was for me to get a job and my own place?”
She put her cup on the coffee table. “You told us he was wonderful.”
“He was. But he wasn’t sometimes. The only time we were able to talk to each other was when we shared a drink.” He sipped the whiskey some more. “This world is cruel. Did I ever tell you I wanted to write a book but never had the time to do it?”
“Yes, many times,” Connie said, finally sensing this was a moment her father wanted to bear his soul. “You have the time now to write. Why don’t you?”
He took another big gulp. “I feel terrible for kicking your brother out into the cold.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t feel great about telling you to kick him out, too” she said. “Did you ever tell Michael how bad you feel?”
“No. He never wanted to share a drink with me. I don’t why. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him.”
He finished off the whiskey and poured himself another glass. Still rocking, he drained it all in one swallow and looked at Connie. His eyes were deadened and bloodshot as he held up his empty glass.
She looked at him in disgust. “Are we just going to sit here or try to do something to find them?”
“We are doing something.”
He poured himself another drink.
Leah returned to her normal routine, finding strength in praying by the fig tree. She prepared a light breakfast. As the lamb brayed for attention, she closed her eyes and reflected on the past few days. A strange, yet familiar face appeared, startling her. He knelt. Closing his eyes too, he whispered the same words.
She smiled and grabbed a nearby bucket to retrieve some water from the well. The man carried a jug and followed her. He poured water into the container. Picking the jug up, he stepped ahead of her and brought it into the kitchen. “If you need any more help, please call upon me,” he said.
His voice was clear, confident and strong, yet gentle in tone. His light blue eyes melted her and his dark black hair reminded her of Yochanan. Before he could leave, Leah called out. “Would you like to stay for some breakfast? It is not much this morning as I have not been to the market in a while.”
“I would. I am sure it will be fulfilling.”
She worked the meal with excitement and some relief. “May I ask you a personal question?”
The man nodded.
“Who are you?”
“I am Aharon, friend of Calev.”
“I am Leah.”
“I know. Calev has told me about you.”
“He has? What did he say?” she asked, turning around.
“He said his brother was fortunate to have you as his wife.”
She smiled, trying not to shed any tears. Leah handed him a cup of water as she returned to preparing the meal.
He sat, taking slow sips. “I am sorry for your loss.”
She bowed.
“I am here whenever you need me.”
“You are so nice to someone who is a stranger.”
“I do not feel you are a stranger.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of Calev, I feel I already know you.”
She continued to cook the porridge, trying to calculate how she would ask the next question. “After you left and took the body, what did you do with him?”
“We paid a man enough silver so no one will ever know.”
She nodded, moving the pan over the seething fire. “He will never be found?”
“He will not be.”
Leah removed the pan from the fire. Her body shook back and forth as she burst into tears.
Aharon took the pan out of her hand, placed it down on the table and held her. His strong grip reassured her better days were ahead.
“I can live again, are you saying I can live again?” she asked through her weeping.
“You can, woman. And when you feel you can not, you tell me. I will be here for you.”
“Why are you so nice to me? What have I done to deserve it?”
“Calev told me that you are a woman who deserves to be loved because you loved his brother so much.”
She lay her head into his chest. “I know this is not proper for a woman to touch a stranger.”
“We are not strangers,” he said.
There were no initial romantic feelings surging through her body like she had with Michael. And this was fine with her. She had found a new friend.
The candlelight’s glow from the houses of Yapu shone brightly in the distance, a welcome site for Amun and Michael. The breeze off the water nearby invigorated their final steps in search of shelter. The chatter between the two slowed as exhaustion overran their curiosity about each other. They took their final few steps with smiles on their faces.
“Here we are,” Amun said. “Home for the night.”
“A wonderful sight too,” Michael said.
Amun gathered up some silver. “I hope this is enough. If not, I can trade trinkets for a room.”
“How much silver do they usually want?”
“There is no price. If there are many staying, the price goes higher. Let us hope many have not found their way here.”
Michael frowned as his fingers danced inside his pockets with his one free hand, hoping to dig up the coins.
“Do you not have silver?” asked Amun.
“I have some silver. I did give most of it to the soldier to save the baby up in the field.”
“This baby?”
“Yes. He’s so good. Isn’t he?”
Amun stared at the ground. “Michael, I do not know what to say. Stay here. I will be back.”
“Sure.”
He watched Amun negotiate with the innkeeper, handing him first the silver coins and a trinket. The innkeeper pointed to the right and Amun smiled, shaking his hand in gratitude. “Good news,” he said. “There’s enough room for both of us. We will stay next to each other, like good friends do.”
“What about the payment?”
“No payment.”
“Why?”
“We are friends. You helped me with my animals. I help you.”
“You’ve been so kind to me. I don’t think I would have made it this far if I hadn’t met you.”
His friend patted him on the back. “You need plenty of rest. Clear your head. I have carried some bread and water with me. Let me share with you.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Someday you tell your friends about me.”
“I certainly will.”
The two sat, drinking water and eating bread. The conversation was light, mainly focusing on what both had planned to do the next day. Amun told Michael he had a few more stops to make before arriving back in Egypt. “If you wish to join me, you may do so, but be up when the sun rises. I have to get my animal.”
“The camel?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t he try to run away?”
“No, he was tired from the traveling. He is a loyal animal.”
“I would like to travel. Would you mind if I take some water for the baby?”
Amun looked puzzled. “If it makes you feel better.”
“It does. He needs to have something or he’ll dehydrate. I’ll ask around the inn to see if anyone is carrying food for a baby.”
Amun’s eyes widened. He tapped him on the back. “Sleep. Go to your room. Do not worry about the baby being hungry. He is fine. I am next to you if you need help, if you want to talk. There is a bedroll in the room. Keep the blankets. Stay warm.”
“Thank you.”
Amun smiled.
Michael planned out his trip to Egypt, the details baking in his mind.
Maybe I’m here to return the baby to them? Is this the Christ child?
After nibbling on a piece of leftover bread, he lay the baby down on the bedroll. “You rest, little one. We’ll find your parents and get you home safely.”
Michael first placed a blanket over him and rubbed his tummy. “Elizabeth always liked this when she was young,” he said with a smile. “Sometimes I think she was a puppy.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. I’m going to see if the innkeeper can tell us if there are any families with babies your age. Maybe they can spare some food.” He stroked the top of the baby’s head with the back of his hand.
Michael gave a last glance at the boy before scoping out the hallway. Each room was much like a cubical you would see in a Fortune 500 company, except they were filled with people wrapped in blankets and laying on bedrolls.
An old man missing his front teeth stood behind a beaten down table, illuminated by two thick lanterns. The innkeeper was attending to a couple and a small boy. They appeared distraught. The man, clothed in traditional garments, pulled at his brown beard, deep in thought as he held the boy’s hand. The little one wasn’t more than four or five years old, yet was bright eyed and bouncing with energy for this time of the night.
Just like Elizabeth was when she was his age. I wonder what kids do for fun here? How do parents keep their children busy?
The innkeeper looked at Michael. “What can I do for you?”
“Please take care of this family first.”
“They are taken care of.”
He couldn’t remove his eyes from the woman wearing the blue veil. She moved it lower to speak to her husband, her concerns more visible. Her face was flushed, perhaps from the wind.
The man signaled the family to leave.
“Sir,” Michael said. “May I ask what’s wrong? Do they need silver to stay?”
“There is no room. You and your friend took the last two.”
Michael called out to both the innkeeper and family. “Wait. Can they stay with me?”
“For a price.”
“What do you want?”
“What do you have?”
Michael dug deep into his pocket and gave him the last two coins. “Sir, sir,” he yelled, running after the family. “I have a room. Do you mind sharing it with me and my boy?”
The man gave Michael a gesture of gratitude.
“It’s this way. Follow me.”
The man and woman lay down three blankets. She persuaded the youngster to settle down on the makeshift bedroll and sang a short song, lulling her son to sleep. She fussed over him a few more minutes, kissing his cheek several times.
“Lay here,” her husband whispered.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked in a higher tone.
“I will sit against the wall. Rest, woman. We have many more steps to take.”
“Would you have any food you can share with me for my boy?” Michael asked the man.
“Yes.” He reached inside a bag and pulled out a small pouch, filled with what looked like oatmeal.
“Thank you.”
Michael decided not to wake the baby since he was sleeping, so he pocketed the pouch.
I’ll use this for the trip to Egypt
. The woman and her son fell asleep while the man watched Michael, apparently not intending to close his eyes.
“You can trust me, sir,” Michael said. “I’m resting before I travel again.”
“I am not tired. Sleep. Do not worry about me.”
“Where are you traveling to?”
“Very far.”
“Egypt? That’s where I’m going.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “No,” he said in a stern, tense voice.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Rest. There are many steps to get to where you wish to go.”
The man’s stare was unyielding.
“My name is Michael. What is your name?”
“My name is unimportant.”
“Sorry if I upset you.”
“You did not. We are thankful for your kindness and sharing your shelter with us. My wife is worried about our trip.”
“I understand.”
The man nodded toward the baby. “I see you have a little boy. Does he not cry? Or move? He is so still.”
“He’s sleeping.”
The room was lit with one candle in the middle, shedding a low light.
“Close your eyes, Michael. Sleep.”
“I will. If my boy wakes up, can you tell me?”
“Yes. I am not sleeping tonight.”