He put his hands over his face briefly as the weight of his thoughts overwhelmed him. Suddenly, the church shook, interrupting his contemplation. What was that? The wind?
He stood and noticed he was the only one left. He approached the manger and admired how the light shone on the face of the baby Jesus, like a laser from God’s hand. Hewitt dropped to his knees. “Why, Lord? Why won’t you help me find that girl? Haven’t I suffered enough losing my own daughter? Why should another girl suffer? Don’t we have enough pain in this world? Enough grief? How many times must I call some parent about finding their kid dead? How many more times must I do this? Tell me. Please, in the name of Hailey, help me.”
The strain of his voice echoed through the old church. The wind, once full of intensity, was silent now. He looked at the baby Jesus and saw some moisture on the face of the child. He took out a tissue and wiped his eyes, embarrassed that his tears had fallen on the infant. As he dried off the baby’s face, he began pleading, “I’ve got no more energy to fight the good fight. I have no clues as to what happened to them.”
He shook his head. “No. No.” He decided he had to fight back. The fear of having to call Connie about finding Elizabeth dead somewhere unnerved him. “I need to do this for Hailey,” he said to the baby.
He took out another tissue and wiped the baby’s eyes again. He stared and wondered. What is that? He dried another tear coming from the right eye and watched as yet another tear dripped down the cheek. Hewitt stood up and backpedaled a few steps.
“Pastor, are you still here?” he said loudly.
He spun around, inspecting the entire church. “Special Agent Ramirez? Are you still in the back?”
There was no response. Hewitt went to the pastor’s office and knocked. “Anyone in there?”
He tapped the door again. “Hello. Pastor. Anyone?” Hewitt stepped back and rubbed his forehead. “What the … ” He placed his hand on the metal casing that held Pastor Timothy’s name. It read “Pastor Vincent.”
Hewitt pulled out the black book and flipped through the pages until he came to Pastor Dennis’ scribbling. He read through his notes on Michael Stewart’s journey. He turned back a few pages and stopped. “GF believes he traveled to the time of Christ. Here are his thoughts.” – Pastor Vincent.
Am I dreaming? Have I finally lost it? Hewitt tapped several more times on the door. “Pastor, are you in there?”
A thumping noise in the church area alerted him to return. “This is Special Agent Paul of the FBI. Show yourself.” Hewitt pulled out his gun and held it shoulder high. “I have my weapon out.” He grabbed his flashlight and held it out in front of him as he searched pew by pew.
He retreated to the manger, noticing a tear again trickling out of the baby’s eye. This has got to be one of those automated dolls that cry. Hewitt picked it up and turned the baby over, looking for a small screw with an attachment. There was none. He held the baby on its back and stared. A tear dropped again from the right eye and dribbled down the cheek. “Whoa,” he said, holding the baby away from himself.
Another tear fell. “Is this some joke, Ramirez?” he asked, shouting in the church. “I know I’m off this case, but this isn’t funny. Did Holligan put you up to this?”
Hewitt touched the tear with his finger. “Ouch,” he said, feeling a burning sensation run up his hand, arm and shoulder. The heat rippled through his body, sending him to his knees. A young voice called out. “Daddy, Daddy, help me, help me!”
Hewitt placed the baby back in the manger. “Who’s that? Where are you?”
“I’m here, I’m here,” the voice called out.
“Who are you?”
“Hailey.”
“Hailey? Dear. Honey. Where are you? Tell me! Daddy will come and get you.”
Hailey touched his hand. “Here, Daddy.”
Hewitt stared and took a couple of steps back. He fell to his knees and pulled her to his chest. “My Lord, you’re alive. How is it you’re here? Why are you here? Where have you been hiding?”
“Here.”
He looked up at her. “Here? In the church? I’ve looked everywhere for you. I looked in every pew, every closet, every office, every door, every stairwell and I didn’t find anyone.”
“Here,” she said, pointing to his heart. “I’m there every day.”
Hewitt closed his eyes and absorbed the feeling of holding his daughter. “I wish I could bottle this and feel this forever,” he said.
He opened his eyes and saw he was surrounded by older children. They were smiling and holding hands. He stood and turned around, looking at each child. “Do I know you? Were these your classmates, Hailey?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Who are they?”
“You don’t know them?”
“I can’t be sure. Were they at your parties?”
“No.”
He turned to each one. “Tell me.”
The older children moved around counterclockwise, singing.
“Why are they singing, Hailey?”
“They’re happy.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Tell me, honey.” He bent down on his knee and touched her face. “Tell, Daddy.”
She smiled.
He shook his head. “Are you really here?”
“Do you not see me?”
“I do. I want to believe you’re here.”
“Well, then I am. You saved them, Daddy. You saved them from the bad people.”
He stood and looked at each of the older children. Hailey held his hand. He squeezed it harder.
“You are a great daddy.”
Hewitt kept staring at the older children singing. He wiped a tear away and saw Hailey was gone.
“No, Hailey, come back,” he yelled. “Don’t leave.”
Chapter 64
A big pile of salt stood in the middle of the parking lot. Susan maneuvered her car around it as kids were tumbling down the side. Once parked, she grabbed a bucket from the back seat, helped her mother out of the car and up the concrete steps. A piece of wood stood straight up in front of them, left over from the last super storm. They walked around it and were greeted by a brisk wind off the water.
Susan held her mother’s arm as they walked down the next set of stairs and onto the sand. They stepped through an opening of a plastic fence, leaning at a sharp angle. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “We can come back when it’s warmer. Maybe summertime?”
“Look at me, dear,” her mother said.
“Yes, so?” she said, stopping.
“I don’t have many more days to make memories with you.”
“Mom, stop talking like that. You could live to a hundred and twenty.”
“Not likely.”
“I’m not listening,” Susan said, covering her ears.
“Well, you’re going to listen to this. I’ve spent my whole life watching others make memories, others make moments.” She walked a couple of steps toward the shore and lifted her head toward the sky.
“What are you doing?” asked Susan.
“My grandfather would tell me around Christmas to look up in the sky and you would see … ”
“Santa Claus. Yes. I know the story, Mom.”
“Oh, Susan, no. He said if you looked up in the sky, you could see him traveling.”
“What?”
“My grandfather said he could travel to the end of time.”
“Well, you said he spent time in a psychiatric ward too.”
They took a few more steps toward the ocean. “He did. Yes. But was he really crazy?”
“Sounds like it. I thought you believed he was crazy.”
“I used to think so.”
They stopped at the edge of the water. “Now, what do you think
?” Susan asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Susan got to her knees and placed the plastic bucket down. She extended her hand to her mother. “Do you need help getting down?”
“I’m old, not feeble.”
“Glad you’ve got some spunk left,” Susan said.
“That I’ve always had.”
They pushed the wet sand into the bucket, packed it tightly with their hands and turned it over. “Time it, Susan,” her mother said.
“How long?”
“Ninety seconds should do it. Long enough to dry.”
“Okay, you’re the expert.”
Susan set the timer on her cell phone. The waves rolled softly up to her feet. She took her shoes off and let the cold water caress her toes. Her mother sat, hands folded over her knees, her hair pushing back from the breeze. Susan noticed her smile. I wonder why I didn’t see more of it.
The wrinkles, once seen as a stark reminder life was leaving less time for them to be together, instead gave Susan a sense of hope that they were embarking on a new relationship. The buzzer rang, and she tapped her mom’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”
Her mom didn’t respond. She closed her eyes.
“Are you feeling all right?” Susan asked.
“I am. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”
“I’m glad,” Susan said as she dug her toes into the wet sand.
Her mom put her hands on the bucket. “On the count of three,” she said. “One, two, three.” They pulled the bucket up and began to build. Three buckets later, a sand castle was born.
“Beautiful,” Susan said.
“It would have been beautiful even if it crumbled,” she replied.
“Spoken like a true mom,” Susan said with a laugh.
“I’ve been fortunate to be a mom,” she said.
“Ouch. Sorry, I haven’t been able to give you any grandkids.”
Her mom grabbed Susan’s hand. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant how lucky I am to have a daughter, someone to share and make memories. Like tonight.”
Susan nodded and stared at the waves coming ashore. The sounds of seagulls flying around were like white noise for her as if a fan were blowing on a hot August day. She closed her eyes and dreamt of a better tomorrow.
“Do you think you will get married to him?”
“Married to who?” Susan asked, opening her eyes.
“You know, him.”
“Him as in Michael?”
“Come on, honey. You told me you love him.”
“As a friend.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I know. You don’t believe men can be friends with women. I’ve heard the talk before.”
“No. I believe they can. I just don’t believe you and Michael are just friends.”
Susan kicked at the sand. “We have an understanding we are friends.”
“Is he your best friend?”
“I think so.”
“Best friends do get married.”
Susan wiped away some sand from in between her toes. “Gee, no pressure there, Mom.”
“I only want what’s best for you.”
“Michael is hard to read. I get mixed signals.”
“He’s a man, Susan. Men don’t know how to express their true feelings. He’s also had so much to deal with in his life. Sometimes, you need to give them a little push.”
Susan stood and wiped more sand off her legs. “There’s no point in discussing this. I have no idea where he is. Or whether he’s alive. Or whether he’s coming back.”
She watched the sky clear as the horizon sparkled with the evening’s stars. “Maybe you’re right, Mom,” she said, looking down at her.
Her mom stared straight ahead.
“Hello? Mom?” She waved her hand in front of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Her mom pointed to the sky.
“What is it?” asked Susan, turning around.
The sky lit up with a bright white light, and two dark blue streaks flashed across the sky and then downward. Susan waited for an explosion. “Was that a plane?” she asked, glancing down at her mom.
The light dimmed moments later, and the sky darkened again as the stars returned. “That was no plane,” her mom said.
“It wasn’t Santa, either,” Susan added. She noticed a flickering light in the distance as she looked to her left. “Is that a fire?”
Her mom got up. “I can’t see that far.”
“My God!” Susan said, standing. “It looks like it’s on top of the church.” She grabbed her cell phone and called 911. “Hello! I’m at Crab Meadow Beach, but I can see a fire not too far away.”
“Where is the location?” the operator asked.
“It looks to be the church on Main Street.”
“Town?”
“Northport.”
“Thank you.”
“We have to get to the church,” Susan said, putting her phone away.
“The firemen will take care of it,” her mom said, holding onto Susan’s arm. “I need to go home. I’m cold.”
Chapter 65
Michael felt a rush of warmth surge through his body. He glanced at Elizabeth, noticing a glow illuminating her face. Her expression was one of contentment, and her eyes shone a bright blue. As the air blew against him, images of his life in Jerusalem surrounded him and then faded away. His body felt weightless for a moment and then heavy. He flailed away, but his arms were rubbery. He panicked for several seconds until his feet hit the ground.
He looked behind him. Elizabeth stood frozen, her body drenched with moisture, water falling off her face and onto the ground. He took the cross and chain off his neck and hugged her. “We’re home. Take this off,” he said, touching her chain.
She did and squeezed him tight. “Where are we?”
Michael watched her eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”
“Are we back home?” she asked. “What’s happening? Are we really here? Am I dreaming again?” She held her head and groaned. “I’m hearing a lot of voices, Dad. I can’t make it stop.” She squeezed her hands over her ears.
He turned around and saw several children encircling a man near the makeshift manger. Michael approached the children.
“My name is Samantha,” one tall child said, touching the man’s shoulder. “You rescued me five years ago. Do you remember? I was ten years old and scared. The man hit me many nights when I cried. You stopped that man from hitting me. We’re so happy now. Our family. My mother and father saw me graduate from middle school. Do you know what they said when they gave me flowers?”
“Are you all right, Elizabeth?” Michael asked. He put his arm around her as she stayed hunched over, holding her head.
“We’re home,” he said, raising his voice. “We’re finally home.” He rubbed her back, and she lifted her head. She gave him a forlorn look.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “We’re home. We’re alive. We’re here.”
She nodded and leaned her head into his chest.
“Wow,” Michael said, putting his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders.
“What? What is it, Dad? What’s going on?”
“That’s the FBI agent. The one who thought I was responsible for your disappearance. What’s he doing here, and who are those children?”
They moved closer to the group and listened to a girl speaking. “They told me how they cherish each day,” the girl said. “How they never take for granted having time with me. How their lives have meaning now.”
Hewitt nodded and lifted his head.
Another girl stepped forward. “My name is Lynn Ann Wallace.” She brushed her light red hair out of her eyes and bent down, looking directly at Hewitt. “Mr. Paul, I was taken by a man as I was coming off a school bus. He
told the bus driver he was my uncle. He knew everything about my family, so I went with him. He hurt and touched me. I found out later that my baby brother had fallen and gotten hurt. That was why my mom was late getting to the bus stop.
“I spent six months being abused by this man. I had no hope. I cried night after night, wondering if my mom would ever hold me again.” The girl wiped some tears away. “Then you saved me.” She gave Hewitt a kiss on the cheek.
One by one, girls and boys stepped forward, each one telling a story. The oldest appeared to be about seventeen years old. She spoke in a clear, defiant tone. “I will never forget the day when I was abducted by this man and woman. I was walking to the grocery store to get milk for my mother. They tied me up and put me in this van. They blindfolded me so I couldn’t see where they were taking me. I lived in this dirty basement for a couple of years. They only gave me bread and water. I wanted to kill them for what they were doing to me. They laughed and mocked me when I told them I had to go to the bathroom.
“My mom told me after I went missing, she spent the time finding ways to hate herself. She thought about killing herself too. Each day that went by, she cried herself to sleep at night. But because of you, my mother doesn’t have to cry anymore. If she does cry, they are happy tears. She’s forgiven herself, and we have a new life together, all because you saved me. In a couple of months, I will be graduating high school and going to college. I am going to be the president of the United States someday and make sure all children are protected in this country.”
The girl smiled and kissed his forehead. “You should see my mother smile when I come home from school. It’s a smile that could light up every lighthouse here on Long Island. You made it possible. Your dedication. Your love.”
The children faded away, and Michael watched Hewitt hold out his arms.
“What’s he doing, Dad?” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t leave, honey,” Hewitt said.
“Don’t you see now, Daddy,” a voice called out. “Don’t you see the families you saved?”
The Greatest Gift Page 29