The Greatest Gift

• Praise for Michael John Sullivan’s Everybody’s Daughter:
  
• A Note from the Author
  
• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  
• Chapter 23
  
• Chapter 24
  
• Chapter 25
  
• Chapter 26
  
• Chapter 27
  
• Chapter 28
  
• Chapter 29
  
• Chapter 30
  
• Chapter 31
  
• Chapter 32
  
• Chapter 33
  
• Chapter 34
  
• Chapter 35
  
• Chapter 36
  
• Chapter 37
  
• Chapter 38
  
• Chapter 39
  
• Chapter 40
  
• Chapter 41
  
• Chapter 42
  
• Chapter 43
  
• Chapter 44
  
• Chapter 45
  
• Chapter 46
  
• Chapter 47
  
• Chapter 48
  
• Chapter 49
  
• Chapter 50
  
• Chapter 51
  
• Chapter 52
  
• Chapter 53
  
• Chapter 54
  
• Chapter 55
  
• Chapter 56
  
• Chapter 57
  
• Chapter 58
  
• Chapter 59
  
• Chapter 60
  
• Chapter 61
  
• Chapter 62
  
• Chapter 63
  
• Chapter 64
  
• Chapter 65
  
• Chapter 66
  
• Chapter 67
  
• Chapter 68
  
• Also by Michael John Sullivan
  

To you, the reader, for allowing me inside your mind.

It has been a privilege to share my words with you during this trilogy.

I hope we meet again.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the third book of my trilogy,
The Greatest Gift.
Originally, I planned to write this novel under the title
The Grea
t
est Christmas.
However, I realized halfway through writing the story, it was necessary to change it.
The Greatest Gift
properly allows each of the characters to find their destiny or not. The important conclusion is we each have our own choice in what path we take.

When I last left you, there was the wonderful ending to
Ev
e
rybody’s Daughter.
Yes, miracles do take place in everyday life, no matter what century we are born in. We just have to recognize them. Before you there might stand a child ready to give you unconditional love in return for yours. Look above you – today there could be a beautiful, clear, blue sky. Take a moment to let the warm sun fill your body and soul with enough strength to persevere through a dreary day of challenges.

Where there is life, there is beauty. It is how I wanted
Ever
y
body’s Daughter
to be remembered as I began to write the next book. I wanted each character to benefit from the ending of
Ev
e
rybody’s Daughter.
There had to be a reason why this incredible moment was allowed to happen.

It also took the element of time travel to help us truly understand how alike we are with our ancestors from past centuries – whether we are spiritual or religious or young or old or believers or not. What we truly have in common is the desire to be loved and share our precious gift of time.

The Greatest Gift
starts off shortly after the ending of
Ever
y
body’s Daughter.
Michael and Elizabeth Stewart were given a great gift. It’s a chance for them to cleanse their pasts, to be grateful for the prized time of today, and to realize the future is only valuable if we have achieved the previous two goals.

I spent a lot of time changing significant plot points so I would be able to present a book that allows you, the reader, satisfaction that the characters are better off today than they were when we started with the series five years ago.

It was important to understand that each of us must confront the daily struggles of life and in the most inopportune moments, tragedy. How we move forward after we each encounter some of life’s cruelties truly paints our next portrait.

I thank you for being a part of this series. I’m already at work on my next novel,
The Second World.

Always remember, all works of art are connected to each other.

Thanks always for connecting with me.

Michael John Sullivan

Elizabeth was gone.
She could have gone outside to the bat
h
room. Yeah, that makes sense. I’ve got to relax. She freaked out last night when I told her we had to leave first thing in the morning. She’s different since she came back. How can she not be happy to be here with me now? Why is she confused? Upset? She seems angry at me. I need to settle down. I can’t have a meltdown every time she’s not right beside me.

Michael yelled, trying to stifle his panic. “Come on, girl, we have to get a move on and find the tunnel so we can head on home and get out of this century.” He forced a chuckle. “Bet not too many dads can say that to their kids, huh?”

He waited a few more minutes before letting the next burst of panic flood his heart.

“Elizabeth,” he shouted louder this time, making his way to the edge of the cave and peering around the corner to check the makeshift facility. “Hey, are you going to hog the bathroom just like you do at home?” he asked, injecting a teasing tone while trying to stifle the nausea building in his gut. “Hurry it up. It’s my turn.”

When he heard no response, he barged inside the bathroom. It was empty.

Dear God. Where is she? Is she that angry with me? There’s something wrong with my daughter. The trauma she endured to her head, the loss of blood, dying and then coming back to life. I could see she wasn’t in her right mind, the way she acted and talked.

I pray I’m overreacting and that she just went out for a short walk.
Michael grimaced.
Why did I fall asleep? I should have stayed awake all night and made sure she didn’t leave my sight. Enough. This isn’t helping her. I have to stop berating myself and get a grip.

Michael shook his head.
I thought I had given her enough time to adapt.

He went outside and scurried up a hill, ignoring the morning’s heat and humidity. He cupped his hands together and screamed with all his might, “Elizabeth. Are you out here? Answer me.” Nothing.

He ran down the hill as fast as his legs could take him, his heart racing as he hurried to the other side of the cave.

He spotted his friend tending to sheep in the field. “Abel!” Michael yelled, trying to catch his breath. “Please,” he shouted, waving his hands. “I need your help.”

Abel wiped his hands on his garment. His brow furrowed as he looked at him in confusion. Michael reached him, gasping for air. Abel spoke in Aramaic and Michael had no idea what he was saying.

His fingers shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cross, which was attached to a string. This allowed him to communicate in Aramaic. “Have you seen a girl, about this high?” Michael asked, pointing to his shoulders. “She has brown hair and green eyes.”

Abel nodded. “The words you spoke before, I have never heard them. Where did you learn them? What do they mean?”

Michael shook his head. “What?”

“Your words. They were strange.”

Michael hesitated. “Forgive me. I was running, out of breath. I could not speak clearly.”

Abel rubbed the side of his head. “Who are you looking for?”

“My daughter. Elizabeth.”

“Your daughter? Your daughter is dead. Is she not?”

Michael paused, realizing he had told Abel about Elizabeth’s fate a while ago.
He knows she died. I told him I only had one daughter. How do I explain this to him?

“She is like a daughter to me,” he fibbed. “She is the daughter of my sister. She was visiting and I did not talk much about her for fear the Romans would come after her as well. Do you know how far she has gone?”

“She was running toward the aqueduct,” Abel said. “I tried to talk to her. She gave me an unpleasant look. She looked to be grieving, crying. Has a family member died?”

Michael shook his head and ran back toward the cave to seek the supplies and weapons he needed to safely get her back home. He knew she had been through a lot. He could see she was confused and distraught the night before but chose to ignore it. Perhaps he should have been more cautious and watched her more closely. Even so, Michael was also angered by her behavior. She knew he was worried about her. How could she just up and leave and not wake him up? This was a dangerous time and place for them to be.
 

Michael picked up a rock and scraped it against the wall, sharpening its edge.
Protect her Lord. I need you to do this for me. If you won’t, I will.
He looked at the rock and placed it in his pocket. He kicked at a big branch and sent it tumbling down a small hill. He reached the edge of the cave and let out an angry growl. Grabbing a makeshift weapon, he placed it in a small pouch. He picked up his bedroll, threw it away and picked up some silver.

What else do I need? Think. Get a hold of yourself. I can’t panic now.

He noticed one of his garments was missing.

She must have taken it.

He saw some scribbling on the wall. The doodle usually made him smile. It was definitely Elizabeth’s. Yet there was no heart placed above the “i,” her signature artwork that usually brought a smile to his face.

Right now, everything enraged him. He threw his pouch down and kicked at the smoldering fire, sending some of the wood still simmering against the concrete wall. It splintered into several pieces as Michael stormed the kitchen area looking for more weapons.

He punched at the wall and roared. He looked briefly at his bleeding knuckles. “I am going to shake some sense into you when I get my hands on you.”

Michael grabbed the leftover bread from last night’s meal and stuffed it inside the pouch. He took a few steps toward the opening of the cave and stopped. Feeling faint, he held onto the wall while his heart continued to race.  He ran to a wooden box, opened it and saw the second cross was missing. “She took it. Thank God. At least she’ll be able to communicate in Aramaic.” He tossed the box away. “My God, why are we still in this forsaken time?”