It is Risen

by H. Claire Taylor

  “That’s great for you,” Judith said airily as she stared back out the window. “Yeah, I’m going to say what’s up.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Don’t need it. I’m great with Jewish men. I always remind them of a young, sexy version of their mother.”

  “But what if he’s just a hipster?”

  Judith pouted out her lips, staring at Jessica with pity. “Doesn’t matter. The same applies.”

  Once Judith had closed the door behind her, Jessica laid out a tray of refrigerated pigs in a blanket and another tray of ham and cheese kolaches for the afternoon crowd. She’d have to hang around until they were done reheating so she could perform her miracle, but she would be nearby anyway, since Maria was arriving shortly.

  Her phone vibrated in her apron pocket, and she reached in and checked the message. It was from Chris: Hey sexy. How’s your day?

  She typed a quick response: Busy. I’ll hit you up later. Miss you.

  Once she sent it away, she paused. How long had it been since she’d last seen her boyfriend? With his football and her frenzied business venture, scheduling had become a bit of a nightmare. She stared down at the kolaches. The last thing they did together was a hike around Lady Bird Lake. But wait, that was almost a month ago. Surely they’d seen each other since then …

  As she popped the second tray into the oven, Maria’s voice called out, “Hello!” from the service window. Then a minute later, Jessica hugged the reporter behind the Airstream and offered her and her long-time camerawoman, Gabrielle, croissants from that morning’s batch.

  “Sorry, those are the worst two images,” she said. “Just don’t put them on camera, please.”

  Maria and Gabrielle exchanged amused glances.

  “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you’ve allowed us to cover your amazing story yet again, Jessica,” Maria said.

  “I can’t think of anyone else I would trust for it. Now, before we start, though, I just want to be clear. Your angle is Mooretown Girl Opens Successful Food Truck in Big City, right?”

  Maria nodded at Gabrielle, who seemed to take the hint and wandered off with the camera. “I know that’s what we’d talked about on the phone, but I’d hoped you’d reconsider. Sure, opening a business in Austin, or even making it out of Mooretown, is a big accomplishment in itself, but”—she tilted her head forward, opening her eyes wide—“we both know the real story isn’t that.” She let her words hang in the air before continuing. “You’re using your miracle to help others. You’re God’s only begotten daughter! Anyone who recognizes you knows the claim, even if they don’t believe it. Don’t you think it would be a bit strange for me to do an entire piece on you without mentioning that teeny tiny detail?”

  “I know you believe it, Maria, but not everyone does. I guess I just want to know that I can run a business based on my own skills rather than, well, you know.”

  Maria chuckled. “Oh, I know that’s what you want this to be. I could tell the moment I heard your dreary business name. You can’t get less inspirational than Jessica’s Gluten-Free Treats.

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you seem to have only one foot in the boat and one still on land. Your entire business is fueled by your ability to perform a specific miracle, yet you want to pretend you’re just a regular businesswoman. I don’t doubt that you’ve worked hard to get to where you are, but you’re ignoring the fact that if anyone else put in the same amount of work, they would yield lesser results. Because you have something they don’t. It’s that, the something you have, that is the story. You shouldn’t feel guilty for having an advantage, but failing to acknowledge it isn’t the way to curry favor, either.”

  Her good mood was rapidly evaporating. “So?”

  Maria’s intense stare softened. “Jessica, I see the potential in you. I’ve seen it for years. Plus, I know the media better than most. This story is about exposure, yet you’re holding back the one thing you need to show to the world. Quite frankly, I find it baffling.”

  “What do you suggest, then? That we make the whole story about my miracle? That I stare directly into the camera and say, ‘I’m God’s daughter, and if you don’t like that, you can do what everyone else does and say horrible shit about me on the internet’? Should I perform all of my known miracles on camera for you? I mean, it’s almost rush hour, and surely we can find a football field nearby. And killing people isn’t that hard to do, apparently. We could knock out all four!”

  Maria didn’t respond right away as she squinted analytically at Jessica. “All four?” she said. “I only know about three. Field goals, resurrection, gluten-free.”

  “I meant three,” Jessica said quickly. “Never mind. The point is that I don’t want to have to put on a whole performance for this story. It’s not a persuasive piece.”

  “And my point is that I won’t allow your gifts to be the elephant in the room. That’s just bad journalism.”

  Jessica sighed and leaned up against the trailer, folding her arms over her chest. “Did you speak with Wendy about it?”

  “Of course. I’m not trying to go rogue here, Jessica. I’m trying to help you and play my part in the bigger strategy. If you want to open a brick and mortar bakery, you need exposure, which can be expensive. I’m offering it to you for free. And this interview will go a lot further toward that goal if you let me cover the full story.”

  Jessica balled her hands into fists under her armpits. “Fine. It just seems a bit unethical to exploit.”

  “Ah. You say exploit, I say showcase.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a stack of notecards. “Here are my questions so you can think about your answers. I’m going to round up Gabrielle, and I’ll see you in five.”

  It was nearly impossible for Jessica to focus on her prep for the next day knowing Maria’s story was broadcasting to Midland and the surrounding markets at that precise moment.

  There didn’t seem a point to her watching it herself. What was done was done. And while she knew she was generally in good hands with Maria Flores, she couldn’t help but feel raw and terrified after being so honest on camera. Would people laugh at her? Would they be upset with her for her using her status as God’s daughter to turn a profit?

  Thanks to Wendy and Cash, she might never know the answers to her questions. They kept her well insulated from public opinion, and if the shit hit the fan, they generally wanted her as far away from said fan as possible because she was no fan repairwoman, that was for sure.

  She glanced over at her television, the screen black. No, she wouldn’t give in.

  Shit. Did I already add the salt?

  She inspected the mixing bowl, stooping over it, moving her head at multiple angles to try to tell if those were all sugar grains or if some of it was salt.

  She decided to split the difference and added half of what the recipe called for in salt. She’d find out in the morning if the challah bread was too salty or not salty enough. That was, if she could figure out how to braid dough.

  This is what the trailer’s for. To test out new recipes.

  Would the gorgeous Jewish man be back the next day to see Judith? Far as Jessica could tell, they’d hit it off earlier that afternoon. He’d stared at Judith like she was the most interesting woman he’d ever met, and she’d returned to the trailer giddy. Hopefully it would turn into something. Judith deserved someone who might pull her out of her cynicism and break her streak of dating significantly older men.

  When her phone rang, Jessica grabbed a hand towel to wipe off the dough from her kneading and answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, Mom.”

  Destinee sounded out of breath. “Baby girl! That was incredible! Mind-blowing.”

  “I really hope you’re talking about the news story.”

  “Of course! I feel like I owe Maria Flores a drink or thirty. Hot damn! It just makes me feel even worse about not making it down to see your truck.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Mom. I know you can’
t take time off. And hey, save the vacation time for when I open a real bakery. I’ll expect you at the soft opening.”

  There was silence on the other line, then a sniffle.

  “Mom, are you … are you feeling okay?”

  Destinee’s voice was strained and quiet. “You made it out, Jess. Deep down I always wanted to make it out, but then I had you and all I wanted was for you to make it out. Then you went off to San Marcos, but I know how many kids go right back home after college, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But now you’ve gone and done it. You started a business in a real city, and you’re not coming back.”

  Jessica didn’t know what to say. She almost felt guilty, but she was fairly certain that wasn’t what her mother was going for.

  “I may never get out of this town, Jess, but I’m glad you did.”

  Jessica braced herself on the countertop, staring at an imperfection in the cement floor as her stomach clenched. “Mom. You’re only thirty-nine. If you really want to move, just move. You can come live in Austin. We’ll make it work.”

  Destinee sniffled again then pulled herself together. “I couldn’t just leave Rex behind. No, it’s fine, baby. I’m just so happy for you.”

  “Rex can get a job in Austin. He led Mooremont to three state championships. You think there aren’t schools here that would hire him in a second?”

  “Rex is a country boy, though. He’d never move to a big city.”

  “Rex is your lapdog more than he is a country boy, Mom. You tell him your ring size and the man would move to Oklahoma with you.”

  “Jessica,” Destinee scolded gently, “I love that man. I would never ask him to move to Oklahoma.”

  “Ask him about Austin then.”

  Destinee sighed deeply. “Yeah, I think I will.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m so proud of you. God made you his daughter, but you made you the girl that got out of Mooretown.”

  Jessica’s eyes settled on the lump of dough sitting neglected. “Thanks, Mom. I gotta go, though. I’m trying to make challah bread for the first time, and it’s not going so well.”

  “Is that a rap thing?”

  She paused but decided not to think too hard about it. “Nooo. It’s a Jewish thing.”

  “Huh. Sounds like … never mind. I’ll let you go. And if you get a chance, could you send another goodie box?”

  “Only if I don’t have to miracle them first.”

  “How am I supposed to show them off to Mrs. Mathers if they don’t have your shining face?”

  So she is still alive. That was good to know. But—“Mom! Are you taunting Mrs. Mathers with my cookies?”

  Destinee paused just a second too long. “No.”

  “Mom.”

  “She won’t let it go what happened between me and her son! That’s not my fault …”

  “I’ll send you some cookies, but they won’t be gluten-free.”

  “Fine, fine. And if you perfect that holler bread, send me a loaf. I’m intrigued.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The frigid saltwater began seeping under the doors and into the ballroom, and Jessica knew they didn’t have much time before the heavy wooden doors gave way and the North Atlantic Ocean rushed in.

  Chris grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her toward him. “We don’t have much longer, Rose. If I’m going down with this ship, I want to know I’ve ravaged you the way you deserve.”

  She fought back a smile. It was a real shame Chris never got into theater back in high school. He could have beat out Greg for a lead role, and how gratifying would that have been?

  Focus!

  “But we shouldn’t, Jack! Happiness is not meant to be for us. It was never meant to be.”

  He grabbed the neckline of her dress and yanked outward, splitting it down the front. “Tell that to my boner.”

  “Chris.”

  “Too much?” he asked, breaking character.

  “Yeah. Jack would never say that.”

  “Okay, um …” He pinched his brows together, chewing his lip, then jumped back in. “I don’t care what our parents say, Rose. I want to spend my last moments ramming my ship deep into your iceberg.”

  She placed her hands flat on his chest, pushing him gently away. “Please no.”

  “What?”

  “Jack wouldn’t say that either.”

  The creaking of the wooden door caught her attention. “Okay, whatever, let’s do this.”

  “Now who’s breaking char—”

  She silenced him with strategic placement of her fingers, and he moaned against her touch as she started to undress him.

  As she fumbled with the buttons of his knickers, the ship shuddered around them and Jessica popped up from where she knelt in front of him, sharing a worried expression with her boyfriend. “I don’t think we timed this right,” she said a moment before the ballroom door flew off the hinges and the ocean exploded into the room.

  “Ooo, that’s cold!” Chris said, high-stepping as the water rushed up his legs. “Abandon ship!” he said, reaching down to scoop her up in his arms. But the water was coming in too fast, and before he could even cross the expansive room, he was forced to let go of her so he could tread water next to her instead.

  “This was not one of our better fantasies,” Jessica said between gasps for air as the icy water stabbed at her lungs.

  “Agreed,” Chris said. “Is that an actual chunk of iceberg?”

  Jess paddled herself around to follow his gaze. “Looks like it.”

  “When do you think we’ll wake up?”

  “It seems like we should’ve already woken up, honestly.”

  “Damn. What do you think—” A wave hit him in the face and he spit it out. “What do you think happens if we die in a sex dream?”

  Jessica didn’t know, so she didn’t bother responding as the water lifted them closer and closer toward the high ceiling. Time was running out. Maybe they woke up if they died in a sex dream. Or maybe the consequences were much direr …

  Then suddenly, Jessica was no longer treading water, but falling, Chris right alongside her. The relief of being out of the cold was enough to make the jolt of hitting the ground worth it. She looked up and struggled to make sense of her surroundings.

  A tall wall of water wobbled on either side of where she and Chris sat on the soggy red carpet of the ballroom.

  Chris pointed at her. “Did you …”

  “Nope.”

  “I claim responsibility for this,” came a deep male voice Jessica didn’t recognize. She whipped her head around toward the source and saw …

  “You’re not Jesus,” she said. Although there were distinct similarities between this man and her half-brother, including wardrobe, skin tone, and unkempt facial hair.

  “Nope. Seems Jesus went and got himself a promotion, and surprise-surprise, God’s having difficulty finding a willing applicant for the job opening. With how much time Jesus spent complaining about the duties to anyone who would listen, it’s not surprising no one jumped on this opportunity. Plus, the employment rate in Heaven is always one hundred percent. So God asked me to come out of retirement, just this once.”

  “Wait a second.” She scanned her surroundings again as a chandelier floated by in one of the water walls. “Moses?”

  “Took you long enough. And to whom do I owe thanks for concocting a fantasy that could so easily be tweaked such that both of you lovebirds were doused in cold water, thereby sparing me the punishment of laying eyes on your naked, awkwardly writhing bodies?”

  Chris finally spoke up. “That was Jessica.”

  She smacked him on the arm. “You were the one who wanted to watch Titanic tonight.”

  Moses groaned impatiently. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not any happier to be here than you are to have me here. And I don’t exactly come bringing good tidings. I need you both to wake up, and Jessica, I think you need to head over to your food wagon as soon as possible.”

  “Truc
k,” she corrected. “And why?”

  “How about you go see for yourself?” He turned and let himself out of the ballroom, and a split second later, the walls of water came crashing down.

  Jessica startled awake. She was alone in bed with the covers kicked into a ball by her feet. Freezing cold, she grabbed the quilt between her toes and pulled it back up over her, groggily lamenting the unsuccessful attempt with the Titanic role-playing. She’d have to cross that off her list of fantasies since there were obviously too many logistical factors to mentally juggle and—

  Wait, Moses? Was Moses in my dream?

  Then she remembered what he’d said.

  She needed to get to the food truck.

  “Shitballs.” Did she take the dream seriously and heed its warning, or did she stay in the warm bed? Inertia was winning until someone else dropped in.

  RISE AND SHINE.

  Dammit. Moses wasn’t just a figment of my dream?

  YOU KNOW HE WASN’T.

  But it’s only two a.m. I’ll have to go to work on no sleep tomorrow. Today.

  THAT SHALL NOT BE AN ISSUE.

  Since when? You know I’m terrible without sleep.

  YOU SHALL SEE. HURRY.

  She crawled out of bed, slipped on sweatpants, a bra, and a sweatshirt, then grabbed a warm blanket to throw over her shoulders for good measure before shoving her feet into fur-lined boots and heading out the door—after all, it was mid-November, and the nightly temperatures were dipping into the fifties.

  She locked the door behind her and turned toward the parking garage entrance, but jumped at the sudden appearance of another person in the hallway.

  Jeremy grinned sheepishly at her. “Oh, you’re up … early? Late?”

  “I have to get to my food truck.”

  He paused, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “Is there … food in your food truck?”

  With the dream still swirling in her head, she struggled to follow along. “Yeah, a little bit in the fridge.”

  “Food you could reheat in a relatively short amount of time?”

  “Yeah, why are you asking?”