by Derek Miller
Chapter Fifteen
Revelation
Hannah and her dad took a walk up the hill behind the house. Grandma’s house had been cleaned out. All the cousins had taken what they wanted, and the rest of Grandma’s things had been taken to an auctioneer. The only thing she had asked for was the diary, and the aunts had agreed that she was the one to have it. After all, if she had not found it behind the board in the attic, they might never have known it existed.
There was no more reason to stay. There was every reason in the world to go to California—and yet it felt strange to be going. She wasn’t sure that she was the same person she had been before she came here. Going back to her old friends, and their parties and gossip didn’t appeal all that much to her anymore.
“I need to talk, Dad,” she said.
He grinned at her. “I’m all ears.”
This was a family joke because he did have ears that stuck out a bit and had taken quite a lot of teasing from his younger brothers when he was a kid.
“Dad, I’ve been thinking about college,” she said.
“Oh. Have you decided to give your old man a heart attack and study underwater cooking?” he said. “Or maybe something more exotic, say—ancient water colors from Mars?”
“I’m not that bad,” she laughed and elbowed him. “No, that book of grandpa’s really has me thinking. He and Milly did so much with so little. I have so many more advantages than them, and it would be a waste for me not to do more.”
“So what are you thinking?” he asked.
“I was thinking about going to medical school.” Hannah’s shoulders tensed, waiting for him to laugh at her. The grades she’d made so far were respectable, but not nearly what she knew she was capable of.
Her father didn’t laugh.
“My daughter, the doctor.” He rolled the sentence out slowly, as though tasting it. “I like the sound of that.”
“What do you think mom will say?” she asked.
“If I know your mom, she will have researched all the medical schools, the application requirements for each one of them, and that’s before our tires leave the driveway this afternoon,” he said. “Race you to the top of the hill!”
“You’re on!” Hannah took off like a bullet. As they crested the hill behind her grandmother’s house together, the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated a panorama of fields and hills, and in the distance, a silvery river snaked along carrying river boats and speed boats--where men and women once risked their lives for freedom.
Epilogue
As Dr. Hannah Miller boarded the helicopter her husband gave her a little push on her rear-end to help her up the ladder. He always did this when they were going on a “mission” together. And just like always she reached back and swatted his hand. She secretly enjoyed that he still flirted with her even though they had been married for several years.
Her brother, Johnathan, was at the top of the stairs. He would be their helicopter pilot. He was good at his job, and always cleared his calendar to make certain that whenever Hannah and his brother-in-law had a mission he could fly them.
Hannah, quite literally, trusted her brother with her life. She always had.
As they strapped themselves in and put on their helmets, the three of them gave a look of “let’s do this!” to each other. And then Johnathan’s silvery bird took them off toward the horizon.
As they flew, she thought back to that summer when she’d read a leather-bound journal. The events Lyle Franklin had recorded over a hundred-and-fifty years ago had inspired her and given her the courage to live the life that she was living now.
She thought about how it had inspired her to fight her way through medical school—and how she had fallen in love with her husband—not because he was handsome (although he was) or highly educated (although he was that, too) but because the first time she’d laid eyes on him, he was comforting a frightened little survivor of a car wreck in the ER where she was to work.
Now she, her husband, and her brother were getting ready to once again fly into hell together. An earthquake had hit an island in the Pacific Ocean, followed by a tsunami. Death and injuries would never be able to be accurately calculated. They were doctors who volunteered for the Red Cross. It was not their first mission together, and it would not be their last.
When their work was over here, and not a minute before, she would tell her husband her good news. In approximately eight months, they would be welcoming a child into their lives. If it was a boy, she wanted to name him Lyle. If it was a girl, her name would be Milly. They, too, would get to read the diary someday—when they were old enough to understand the value of what their two ancestors had done.
She would continue to teach any other children with which the Lord might bless them. And their grandchildren. And great-grandchildren if she lived long enough to touch their lives, too. She would teach them about their responsibility toward others—about how it changes one’s life to fight for those who are weak, sick, or in danger.
By the grace of God, the family tradition of helping others would continue for generations.
“Look,” her husband said, pointing. “Are you ready for this?”
She glanced out the window. Smoke, fires and looters were visible. She heard Johnathan and his copilot chatter over her helmet radio looking for the secure Landing Zone. Any minute now they would touch down.
It was not going to be easy. She had learned that she could not save everyone. But anyone she could get to, she would help until she could do no more. Death and suffering and evil would not win on her watch. She had come from a long line of warriors. Courage, sacrifice, faith and perseverance were in her blood.
The End