He shook his head. “I don’t know. I have some silver and a weapon.”
“A weapon?”
He pulled out a knife. “From Aharon. It’s all he had.”
“That’s the best we can do?” She shook her head. “How long do you think it will be before we get to Rome?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Whatever you do, do not confront anyone on this boat. Act like a woman would during this time.”
“How is that?”
“Do what you are told.”
Elizabeth leaned forward, holding her head. “Oh, great.”
“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, reaching for her. “Are you sick?”
Elizabeth gave him an angry look.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Behind you.”
“What?”
“Look behind you.”
Michael turned slowly. “I’m looking. What is it?”
“Look closer,” she said, grunting. “Get it.”
Michael stood and looked at a stacked group of carts. “Get what. I don’t see anything. Do you want something to eat or drink?” He picked up a loaf of bread and showed it to her.
Elizabeth whacked it out of his hands. She staggered to another stack of carts in the corner. Michael heard some footsteps above him on deck. “Sit down, Elizabeth.”
He grabbed and pulled her down beside him as a couple of Romans glared. “Be still for the journey. We have our orders to take you back alive. Do not force us to punish you.”
“She will listen,” Michael said, putting his hand up in front of his face.
“Who are you?”
“He is the friend of the preacher,” another Roman said, stepping down off the stairway.
“Then you should go be with the preacher,” the Roman said. He picked Michael up. “Go seek him out.”
Michael frowned. “Yes.”
He took a step away from Elizabeth and turned around, pointing to her cross. He mouthed, “Keep your cross hidden. If a soldier bothers you, call the captain.” He pointed upstairs. “I gave him money.”
The boat creaked back and forth as the wind inspired the waves to gain some strength. The captain’s cries began to lose their vigor as the noise from the elements tumbled across the boat’s structure. The fog dissipated and an overcast sky greeted Michael as he took a moment to smell the salty air. The shoreline of Caesarea had vanished as the boat had picked up speed. He was unsure how long it had been since he had said his goodbyes to Aharon and Leah.
The waves bounced against the side of the vessel and sent mists of water into his face. He wiped it with his sleeves and approached the captain. “Sir,” he said.
The captain stopped in mid-shout. “Are you being treated well?”
“Yes sir. I am seeking to speak to the prisoner, Paul. Is this possible?”
The captain pointed to the far end of the boat, away from the rowers. “He is there,” he said. “You can find him below the topping. Tell Julius I granted permission for you to speak to him.”
“Thank you.” Michael moved past the men rowing, noticing their arms drenched in seawater. The sky darkened some more, and the wind pinned the sails back. It looked like they were running into a storm. He was glad he was on the boat with Paul. God would not let Paul suffer and die on this journey. He knew Paul had much more to write, much more to share and preach. Surely this couldn’t be the end. As he thought about it though, he remembered that most of the apostles died a cruel death. He just couldn’t remember what had happened to Paul.
He glanced at the sky one more time before walking down a short stairwell with lanterns on both sides to lighten the dark area. He was confronted by a man holding what looked like a piece of clay. “Are you Julius?” he asked.
“I am.”
“I am here to see Paul.”
Julius turned around and shouted down the stairs. “Does Paul want to speak to another traveler?”
A Roman soldier appeared at the bottom of the stairway. He raised his spear. “Who needs to see him?”
Julius turned and faced him. “State your name.”
“Michael.”
“Where are you from?”
“Jerusalem.”
“What is your purpose?”
“I am an old friend. I want to wish him my best.” He looked past Julius and saw Paul peering up at him.
“Come, my friend. We have much to talk about.” He waved him down. Julius stepped aside, and the soldier lowered his spear as he walked past them. Paul was sitting on the floor at a small table with a cup of water and several pieces of bread. His face was full, and he had some color in his cheeks. His outstretched hands held onto the table.
“Sit my friend,” he said.
Michael leaned down and balanced himself by holding onto the table with one hand. His stomach rumbled, and he felt some acid jump up into his throat. He took a deep breath as the boat swayed.
“Have you not traveled by sea before?” asked Paul.
“I have. But not in a vessel this small.”
“This boat is big.”
Michael tugged at his garment and grabbed his stomach. He put his head between his legs for a few seconds.
“My friend, be calm,” Paul said.
“I am trying,” Michael replied, lifting his head from between his knees.
“Have some bread,” Paul said, handing him a piece.
Michael nodded and gulped it.
“You are hungry?”
“This helps my stomach.”
Paul pushed another piece of bread toward him. Michael scooped it up and swallowed it whole. “I feel better,” he said.
“This pleases me.”
Michael eyed the cup of water sitting on the table. “How can I please you?” he asked.
“Tell me what my rabbi said. You told me at the prison you were given a message. We were interrupted before you could tell me.”
Michael glanced at Julius standing behind him, speaking to the Roman guard.
“You can talk. They have treated me well.”
He leaned closer to Paul. “He told me what is revealed to me traveling by boat with you is of utmost importance.”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Is there more?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Paul asked as he rubbed the back of his head.
Michael reflected for several seconds, touching the base of the cup.
“Take some,” Paul said.
Michael took a couple of sips, trying to remove the acidic taste in his mouth. “Jesus said you had some words that would carry forth through many sunsets.”
Paul took a deep breath and leaned back from the table. He stroked the bottom of his eyes, trying to smooth out the wrinkles beneath them. “My rabbi has a way with words. Sometimes the words he does not say speak with more importance.”
“I do not understand,” said Michael, now up on his knees and holding onto the table with both hands.
“The words I have yet to speak are the words you need to know.”
Michael pulled away and clung to the table as the boat swayed some more. The cup slid off and fell to the floor.
“The wind is talking to us, my friend,” said Paul.
“What do you mean?”
“Listen to the wind.”
The table shook, and the last piece of bread tumbled onto Michael’s lap. He pushed it away and stood, holding his stomach. “Oh no.”
“You are sick again? Is the wind speaking words of discomfort?”
“You could say that,” said Michael. He bent over and took a few short breaths. The smell of the seawater flooded his senses. He grabbed the cup off the floor and saw it was empty.
“Ugh,” he continued. “We can talk later. You can tell me what I need.”
<
br /> Paul stood and grasped his arm. “The words are already being spoken to you. There are no words that need to come from my mouth. Do not close your eyes or ears. It is happening now.”
Michael ran to the top of the boat. The waves were overrunning the sides, and water was flooding the deck. He stumbled to the railing and threw up. The next wave ascended the boat and drenched him. He shook his head and stumbled back downstairs. He fell to the floor and felt a hand touch his back.
“Are you all right, Dad?”
“Yeah. Breakfast didn’t agree with me.”
He stared at her. “Anyway, whatever I did have the last couple of days my stomach just dropped into the sea.”
“Sorry. You feel better after throwing up?” she asked.
Michael shook his head. “This boat rocking back and forth like this isn’t my ideal way of traveling.”
“You wouldn’t make a good apostle,” she said.
He frowned.
“Sorry. Trying to lighten your agony. Speaking of apostles, what did Paul say? What do we have to do?”
He waved his arms in the air and stood, taking a deep breath. “I’m more confused now after speaking to him.”
Elizabeth straightened up. “What was confusing?”
“He told me first the words not spoken are as important as the words Jesus did speak. He also said listen and watch the wind, whatever the heck that means. He said the words being spoken are happening right now. I don’t hear anything.”
“Maybe he means we have to be on the deck to hear the wind.”
“Could be.” He leaned away from her and spit. “Sorry. I know it’s disgusting.”
“Gross is more like it.”
“I know.” He climbed the few steps and stared at the black sky, ignoring the captain’s pleas to stay below. “I am fine. I need some air. It will do me some good.”
“The sea is getting worse,” the captain said.
He ignored his fears despite the waves crashing against the side of the boat. Michael gripped the railing with both hands as Elizabeth joined him. “Go back down,” he yelled. “The Romans won’t tolerate it.”
“No. The instructions Jesus gave you were meant for both of us. Right?”
“I guess. I’m not sure. He never mentioned you.”
“We’re in this together,” she said, now holding on with both hands. “Four ears and four eyes are better than two of each.”
Michael was too nauseous to argue with her. He picked his head up high and closed his eyes. I am listening. Now, talk to me, Lord. Tell me what I need to know to help Paul. Tell me where I should go to get us home. The wind howled a tune he couldn’t decipher. The waves tumbled over the side with greater height.
“Can you hear anything?” he shouted over the captain’s yelling.
“Not one word,” she said. He looked at Elizabeth wiping her eyes. She coughed and spit up some water.
“Go back downstairs,” he said. “I won’t stay up here much longer.”
She saw the Romans pointing at her from the far end of the ship. She brushed past Michael and went below.
He watched the waves come aboard one by one. I’m watching, Lord. What should I be looking for? What message must I give to Paul? Tell me soon.
Michael turned away and felt the brunt of the wind, pushing him away from the railing. He tumbled to the ground, hitting his head against a cart. The captain lifted him up. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
The captain left him and rushed to the aid of a man who fell overboard. Several men leaned down with their arms. Michael pulled at a stray robe under the cart and brought it to the men. They lowered it and tugged hard as the man held onto it. As they raised him up over the railing, the men cheered.
“Take him down and get him warm,” shouted the captain. He gestured to the men to take their positions. “Forward … back,” he said. “Halt.” He pointed to Michael and held up an oar.
“Me?” Michael muttered, pointing to his chest.
“You,” the captain said. “We are a man short. Look at the sea. We need every man to help now.”
The boat slid sideways wave after wave. The black sky pitched a tent surrounding the tiny boat. A man slapped Michael on the back as he sat down and lowered his oar over the side and into the water.
“Forward,” screamed the captain. “Back,” he said.
The water caromed high off of his side and soaked his lower body.
“Forward, back,” the captain pleaded.
As the waves hit the boat with more frequency, the pleas came in shorter bursts. The salt stung his eyes, and his vision became blurry. Some water poured into his mouth, and he coughed each time the captain shouted “Forward.”
He spit and tried to wipe the mist from his eyes. The waves of water filled his ears and lungs. Then everything went black.
Chapter 42
Modern-Day Long Island
Timothy played with the microphone on top of the podium. “Testing, one, two, three.” His voice carried from end to end through the empty church. He opened an old, tattered Bible and thumbed through it.
Where is that passage?
He removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. He flipped the pages until he reached the end. Why can’t I find that passage?
He looked up at the empty pews and scratched his head. “Am I losing it?” he said to no one in particular.
“Katie, I need your help,” he called out.
“Yes, Pastor,” she said, carrying a stack of papers.
“I know I’m getting old, granted. But I know I’m not crazy. Is this the Bible I read from during the last service?”
Katie put the stack of papers down on the side of the podium. He handed her the Bible. She looked at the inside cover. “Yes. Look at the marking.”
Always remember, 12/25. Ask for forgiveness.
“This is the personal Bible of Pastor Dennis,” Katie said. “You did want this one, didn’t you? You told me you wanted to remember him by using his Bible for the services.”
“I did request this. Good. I’m not going crazy. But there are pages missing.”
“What pages?” she asked, turning them one by one.
“The Acts of the Apostles. Acts 27-28:10. They’re missing.”
Katie sat down in the first pew. She looked at each section of the New Testament. He joined her. “I don’t see it,” she said, looking at him. “You’re not going crazy. Let me look through it one more time.”
Katie took nearly thirty minutes, carefully examining each page. She shook her head and closed the book. “I don’t know what happened,” she said. “At the end of your last service, I locked it up in the office.” She stood and handed him the book. “I’ll get you the spare copy.”
“Good. I need to read from one of Paul’s works.” He held the Bible to his chest. He removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyebrows.
She returned moments later and gave him another Bible. “This is brand-new,” she said. “I’m sorry, Pastor. I didn’t notice any torn pages or rip marks. I know I locked it up. This Bible was special to Pastor Dennis. I treated it that way.”
“Don’t worry yourself about this,” he said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you. But how did this happen?” she asked. “It’s odd there are no tear or rip marks where the pages are missing. Maybe part of it fell out? Maybe the glue dried holding the pages together?”
“Perhaps,” he said, as he began paging through the new Bible.
He kept pushing the pages along. Each time he finished ten or so pages, he looked up toward the church ceiling. “Mary, Mother of God, are my eyes deceiving me?” he asked out loud.
“Is everything okay?” asked Katie.
He put one finger up in the air. “I’m checking.”
He finished goi
ng through the Bible minutes later and held it up to his face, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong, Pastor?” she asked.
“It’s not in this one either.” He turned to her. “What is going on here?”
He dropped the Bible on the bench and walked to a couple of pews behind them. He grabbed a couple of Bibles used by churchgoers for the services. Sitting down, he instructed Katie, “Take some books. Check again.”
Katie went to the other side of the church and took one each from four different rows. She returned and sat down next to him. “Do you think someone came in here and removed the same pages?”
“No. This is too random.”
They paged through the books with speed. When they finished, he half ran, half walked to the last pew and took eight more Bibles out of the holders. He gave four to Katie as she joined him in the back near the organ.
“They’re all like this,” he said, dropping the last one on top of the organ. “Call and check with the company that provided us with the books.”
“Yes, Pastor,” said Katie. She ran to her office, holding one of the Bibles.
“Why?” he wondered out loud. “How did this happen? This has to be a printing mistake we didn’t recognize.”
He walked to the front and stopped by the podium. He opened Pastor Dennis’ Bible and examined the New Testament again. He glanced upward, catching Katie’s blank expression as she stood off to the side.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“They said it wasn’t a printing error.”
“What? How could it not be?”
“They said it was the version they were given. They checked their templates.”
“Then they got the wrong templates.”
She shook her head. “They said all their templates are like that.”
Timothy sat on the lip of the service area and grasped the side of the podium. He stared for several seconds at the vacant church. “You can go, Katie.”
She didn’t move as he turned to her. “You can go.”
“But Pastor, what are we going to do about the Bibles?”
“There’s nothing we can do here.”
The Greatest Gift Page 17