Blood Moon Redemption

by Judy DuCharme

  “Go ahead, honey. It’s time we told her.” Her father tapped the table. “If it’s true, it’ll happen. If not, it’s just a curious event.”

  Her mother reached over and took Tassie’s hand. “He said, ‘This little girl has been chosen to be influential in the last days’ events of Israel.’”

  Tassie stood up. “Whaaaat! Last days! Mother, that is ludicrous!”

  “Let her finish, Sweetie. Sit down.” Her dad nodded at her.

  Tassie put her head in her hands.

  “Then Hector said, ‘She will bring back Lydia’s tassel and provide blessing to Israel.’ I just stared at him. I was speechless. Then he said, ‘In fact, Tassel would be a fitting name for that wonderful child.’ He reached over, squeezed my hand, and then walked out the door. The next thing I remembered was waking up as your dad came through the door. I told him the dream, even though it seemed so real.”

  “We didn’t talk about it much.” Her father’s voice was hoarse. Tassie bit her lip. “We talked about other names, names already planned, but when you were born, we looked at each other and together we said, ‘Her name is Tassel.’ Your mother smiled and said, ‘Tassel Lydia Stevens.’”

  “When I was pregnant with Reuben we worried that we’d have to name him Hector.”

  Tears ran down Tassie’s cheek and her tea sputtered out of her mouth as she began laughing. “Oh, oh, my.”

  Her father coughed and put his head in his arms on the table and his body jiggled all over.

  “Jack, are you okay?”

  He nodded his head. “Can . . . you imagine? Hector.”

  Tassie sniffed. “My side hurts. I can’t stop laughing.”

  Marge blew her nose. “I know, I know.”

  Taking a deep breath, Tassie composed herself. “So, was it a dream or did Hector just walk into your house? I know I wasn’t dreaming when he just walked into my office.”

  CHAPTER 8

  PRESENT DAY, CHICAGO

  Metro News Alert!

  Tassie had just set her purse on the table and hugged her dad.

  “You’d think the election was this year with all the fuss. Or did another young celebrity get arrested. Mother, you—”

  “Wait, Tassie. Listen” Her mother shushed her with a wave of her hand and kept her gaze on the TV.

  Jace Shepard, the afternoon news reporter, was a master of teasers. “This is an amazing story, one you don’t hear very often. Well, I guess never. At least not in the last 2000 years.” Shepard paused as the camera zoomed in on his face. “This is just in from Israel.”

  “Mother, don’t hold your breath.” Tassie plopped down on the couch.

  “It seems that a group of rabbis, and quite prominent ones—but then all rabbis, I would think, are considered prominent.” Jace Shepard smiled. “Anyway, this group of rabbis has declared that they believe Jesus is the Messiah.”

  Tassie’s mother gasped. “Oh my.”

  “Now, there have been rabbis who have said this before. However, this group claims to represent over fifty percent of all rabbis in Israel. They have released a statement saying that many have believed this for years, but for obvious reasons have kept it under wraps, so to speak.”

  Tassie sat on the edge of the couch.

  “These rabbis determined that once they crossed the fifty percent mark they would go public. Yesterday was Passover, a high holy day for all of the Jewish faith. It was also a lunar eclipse.”

  Her mother looked at her father and then at Tassie.

  “Now these rabbis believe that lunar eclipses portend great meaning for Israel, sometimes positive and sometimes negative. This is the first of two lunar eclipses to fall on a high holy day this year.” The reporter paused and looked at his paper. “Who keeps track of this stuff? Did anyone else know that?”

  Her father answered. “I knew it, Jace. I’ll send you an email.”

  “And, apparently there are two more to occur next year. That’s cool, four lunar eclipses in a row on high holy days. Now the rabbis say that these will bring great persecution and great provision for the people of Israel.”

  Each member of the Stevens family was now sitting on the couch, leaning forward, giving Jace Shepard their full attention.

  “I can tell you that this declaration is going to probably ignite a firestorm of opinion, both negative and positive. It must be a monumental announcement to all Jewish people who are looking for their Messiah, to hear their rabbis, their honored teachers, say the Messiah has come and He is Jesus. This will make for some fascinating panel discussions. But, I do believe it will be life-changing for many as well. Now, up next . . . ”

  “I’m dumbfounded.” Tassie’s mother stood up as she grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

  Her father nodded as he leaned back and put an arm around Tassie. “He’s right. It’ll be a firestorm. It’s like they’re rejecting their faith.”

  “Mother, your face is as white as a sheet.” Tassie stood to take her arm and guide her to a chair.

  Her dad came over and took her hand. “Are you all right? Why does this news shock you? It’s odd and bound to stir up controversy.”

  “It’s the blood moons.”

  Tassie turned around and threw her hands in the air in disgust. Turning back to her mother, she tried to not sound condescending. “Mother, please, this is an interest, not your life. It’s like a TV series . . . exciting, suspenseful, but of no consequence.”

  Her mom’s voice was steel. “Oh, it’s significant. Nothing will be the same from this day on. Mark my words.” She smiled and stood up. “This next year . . . ” She shook her head. “Or two years . . . ” She continued staring off. “Well, it will be different. Significantly different. Things are going to change in Israel and it will affect everything.”

  “Mother.” Tassie’s voice was gentle this time. “Events in Israel or concerning Israel are always changing, but in a way, it all stays the same.”

  “Not this time. You mark my words. Not this time.”

  “Mother, are you listening to those messianic Jews on TV? I mean, I know people say they are Christian Jews or Jewish Christians, whatever it is, and they have every right, but I never thought you had an inkling in that direction.”

  “Well, no, I never did, but, well . . . ”

  “Marge, really?” Tassie’s dad pulled his head back. “That would surprise me.”

  “Oh, I did turn on a couple, just for research.” She laughed. “No, that’s nothing, but this report is definitely something. Believe me, this is something. But now we need to celebrate our Passover dinner, only a day late, but I don’t think God will mind too much. Thank you Tassie for coming. It’s so special to have you here.”

  “I still enjoy it, Mother. I do apologize for having to work so late yesterday. But, I did see part of the lunar eclipse out my window in the middle of the night. And it did look red. I wouldn’t call it blood red, but it was red.”

  Marge Stevens hugged her daughter. “I love you, Tassie, so much. Thanks for putting up with me. Now let’s eat.”

  The news was tuned in on the restaurant TV when Tassie arrived. Omar sat staring at the table. “The Secretary of State is so misinformed it’s ridiculous.”

  Tassie slid into the booth and placed her hand on Omar’s. “He goes on and on and on. I don’t believe a word he says. Do you really think Iran, or even North Korea, is negotiating and holding off development of a nuclear bomb?”

  Omar raised his head. His eyes were steel points. “He says what he needs to.” She detected a sneer in his voice. “Iran has never slowed down. The Secretary makes no one happy, except the . . . Americans.”

  Tassie was sure when he paused he was going to say ‘stupid Americans’. “You don’t like him, do you?”

  “He’s a stooge. Many people are.” Omar smiled.

  A forced smile.

  “I’m having ribs. What about you, beautiful?” He reached over and drew his finger along Tassie’s cheekbone.

  �
��Ribs do sound wonderful.” Her eyes held his. Is this blossoming love or simply middle-eastern flattery? “So, tell me about your childhood.”

  “Do I hear the investigative lawyer or the inquisitive lover?”

  Tassie almost gulped. She wasn’t sure. Hector’s warning rang in her mind: ‘Do the background check, Tassie.’ Could Omar detect that?

  “I’m naturally curious.” She gave a coy smile. “Syria?”

  “Yes, I was born in Damascus, a typical Arab boy, playing in the streets with my friends, beat up by my older brothers, taught Islam by my father. We moved to the country when I was ten. My father’s business required travel and so we were sent to live with my grandfather. I resented it at first, but it was a good thing. My grandfather was quite wealthy and was able to pay for all of us to go to university here in America. I travel home once or twice a year to visit and . . . see friends as well as family. It has worked out well.”

  Tassie tipped her head. “How does that work with all the turmoil, the civil war?”

  Omar closed his eyes and chuckled. “Well, I fly in and I fly out. War does go on in one section of the country, but where I go, it’s safe.” He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. “Actually, I have friends in high places.”

  Tassie widened her eyes, speechless.

  “For a lawyer, you sure are gullible.” Omar grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Anywhere in the Middle East is potentially dangerous. I time it well. Not to worry.”

  “Well our little trip to Door County begins in a few days.” Tassie rubbed the back of Omar’s hand. “I can leave work at noon on Friday.”

  “Perfect, I’ll pick you up at one.”

  The drive from Chicago to Door County was just a few hours in length, one that Tassie always enjoyed. Tassie gave Omar details of the history and sights as they drove.

  “Door County has over 200 miles of shoreline, and it’s such a beautiful place. Sunsets, sunrises, wonderful shops, fabulous restaurants. It can be a quiet getaway or a totally busy adventure. I love it.” Tassie patted Omar’s arm as he drove. “The only problem is that almost everyone up here is a Green Bay Packers fan.”

  Omar squinted his eyes. “Really? They’re big into it?”

  “Maybe they have nothing else to do.” Tassie chuckled. “Not really. The people are great. But there is a strong rivalry between the Bears and the Packers. It’s fun.”

  “I guess I’m a Dolphins fan. But I don’t have much time for football.”

  Tassie settled back in the seat. She was excited to share this weekend with Omar. Door County could be romantic and full of adventure. Her parents loved it and Tassie hoped Omar would as well. He intrigued her. He was charming, smart, financially well off, a hard worker. Muslim, yes, but what did that matter in this day and age.

  They stayed at a resort of cottages right on the Bay of Green Bay in northern Door County in the tiny town of Ellison Bay. Omar held her hand as they walked out on the dock just after sunset. The hues thrilled her soul. She felt chills and warmth at the same time. Purples and oranges layered the sky and lapped the water as long as daylight held.

  Walking back, they paused on the little sandy beach. Omar picked up a stone and expertly sent it skipping, grazing the surface of the calm waters five times.

  “Oh, you are on. I’m good at skipping stones.”

  “Let’s do it. Winner buys breakfast in the morning. Best of seven wins.” Omar began gathering stones.

  “Ah ha, the world series of stone skipping, best of seven. Where’s my hat?”

  A young family was preparing a fire in the grand stone firepit reserved for guests of the resort. Two young boys ran to Tassie. “Can we help you find stones?”

  “You sure can.” She bent over close to their ears. “I have to beat him. I need flat, smooth, sort of narrow stones.”

  “We know what kind. Our dad taught us.”

  Omar let out a belly laugh. “Now, don’t help her too much, boys. We guys need to stick together.”

  The youngest boy looked up at Omar. “Can I help you, sir?” He seemed scared of Omar.

  Omar ruffled his hair. “You sure can.”

  The contest went far beyond seven throws each. They were neck and neck, and then Omar scored nine skips. The boys were jumping up and down, and Tassie was holding her side from laughing so hard. The youngest boy and Omar high-fived and the little guy ran back to his mom by the fire. “We won! We won!”

  Tassie and Omar warmed themselves by the fire, chatted briefly with the parents, and thanked the boys for their great assistance before returning to their cottage. Standing on the deck, Omar put his arms around Tassie as they gazed up at stars that seemed as close as any time she could remember.

  Omar gently pulled Tassie’s arm and guided her inside. As she placed her hand on the light switch, Omar closed his hand over hers and embraced her. As his lips found hers, Tassie melted into his arms and thought of nothing else.

  The little restaurant was just a block’s walk. The young man in the Green Bay Packer sweatshirt swept the sidewalk in front. Tassie paused as they walked by him. “Hi. I like your sweatshirt.”

  “Are you a Packers fan?” His face lit up as he asked the question, and Tassie could see the face of Down Syndrome. Growing up, the boy next door had been born with Down Syndrome and she always loved his openness and honesty with other people.

  “I’m not a Packers fan.” She leaned toward him and whispered. “I’m from Chicago. I’m a Bears fan.”

  He grinned. “We beat them all the time. And two weeks in a row right before the Super Bowl.”

  “Ouch, you know how to hurt a girl.”

  The young man laughed and held the door open for them.

  “Two?”

  Tassie nodded. A young woman led them to a booth and gave them menus. Tassie tilted her head. “That young man knows his Packers.”

  “Yes, Chris always has Packer clothes on . . . every day.”

  “Except when he has his Wisconsin Badger sweatshirt on.” The man in the next booth spoke over his shoulder.

  Small towns.

  “But he always has a Packer t-shirt on underneath. I’ll be right back with coffee.”

  Omar and Tassie had pancakes and eggs and discussed their plans for the day. They wanted to hike the parks, visit a few shops, and enjoy a fish boil later in the day. Omar had never been to one, and Tassie couldn’t wait for him to try it.

  “They pour kerosene on the fire after cooking the fish, potatoes, and onions. The pot boils over with any grease and the flames go fifteen feet in the air.”

  “And it actually tastes good? Boiled fish?”

  “It’s delicious. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Chris walked by on his way to wipe off a table. Tassie caught his eye. “You really love your Packers, don’t you?”

  Chris put one finger in the air. “Actually, I love Jesus more. Do you love Jesus?”

  Omar groaned and Tassie pursed her lips. “Well, Chris, I’m Jewish.”

  “How about you, sir.”

  “I’m Muslim. We believe Jesus was a prophet.”

  “But do you love Him?” Chris held up both hands. “Wait. God loves you, so I can pray.” He put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Dear Jesus, come into their hearts. They need you. Amen. Okay, have a good day.” He turned and walked away.

  Omar and Tassie sat, not saying a word. The people at the neighboring tables and booths grinned and looked away. The man who had spoken earlier leaned over. “That’s Chris, he’s a good kid. Don’t let him upset you.”

  Tassie nodded. “It’s fine, just kind of a surprise.”

  They finished their breakfast, paid, and left the restaurant.

  “Well, that was the most unique breakfast I have ever had.” Omar put his arm around Tassie, and they walked back to the cottage.

  CHAPTER 9

  PRESENT DAY, CHICAGO

  Tassie found a seat close to the water on the patio. This coffee shop was her
favorite spot after a run.

  The water rippled by, seemingly on a mission to somewhere. At least it appears to have purpose. If I asked it, would it know where it was going?

  The breeze graced Tassie’s face. Not cold, not refreshing, but, oh so pleasant. The wrought iron railing impeded the view a bit, but what could be better than sitting right next to the water? Quiet, peaceful. No demands, no timelines.

  There were always things to get done at work. But now, sip the warm coffee. Warmth, comforting warmth flowed from the cup to her hands. It warms my soul somehow.

  Slightly bitter, the taste made her tongue protest, but she sipped on. The moment was all important, the moment to feel still, to feel special, to be important to herself, to enjoy her little retreat.

  The white of the clouds puffed higher and higher on the horizon. If they turned dark, they might deliver a storm, but for now they were friendly, pretty. The light teal blue of the sky was a treasure.

  How far is the sky blue? Her dad would often ask her that when she was little. She would open her eyes as wide as she could, and she would stare, trying to see the end of the blue. She’d wonder and ponder, but finally she’d look into her dad’s slightly scratchy face . . . ‘my all day shadow’ he called it . . . and into his deep set brown eyes that always had a twinkle.

  She would say, “I don’t know, Daddy. How far?”

  “Forever, sweetie, and that’s how far our God will provide for us.”

  Tassie never quite understood, but it sounded so profound that she never questioned further. She would just snuggle closer to her dad and feel safe.

  Snapping out of her memory, Tassie glanced again at the clouds. They were a shade darker. Umm, hmm, friendly fair-weather clouds about to become mean dark thunderheads. A shiver ran down her arms and she pulled her sweater a little closer.

  Is that what Omar is, a friendly cloud, beautiful and majestic, but beginning to darken into a fierce storm? She’d been avoiding that thought, avoiding her parents because they already sensed something was amiss.