Ever since Elizabeth disappeared, Carolyn had grieved in her heart for any mother who had lost a child. This was truly the worst thing that could ever happen to a mother. Yet, it happened to one somewhere every day. She would never throw out a milk carton again without studying the faces of the missing children on the side. She would never pass a poster on a bulletin board again without poring over the pictures and saying a prayer for that family, that mother, that child. The plight of these mothers was now real to her. It was her battle now. She must find strength to face whatever lay ahead.
“John, did you ever think when Elizabeth was a tiny baby that we would ever face such an agonizing day as this?”
“No, honey. I never dreamed. No parent wants to think of this ever happening.”
“I know that no one wants to believe their child is dead. But John, I just don’t feel in my spirit that she is. I can feel her. At night when I close my eyes, I hear her calling out to me. She is alive somewhere. Someone is keeping her from us. But she is alive. We cannot stop looking.”
John sat down on the bed beside his wife. He placed an arm around her and pulled her close to him. He ran his hand through her blonde hair. He closed his eyes and pictured Elizabeth’s blonde hair.
“She is a strong young woman like her mother. She will survive. Our grandchild will survive. We have to trust God to keep her safe. Be strong Carolyn. She’s in God’s hands. He is in control of our lives...and our daughter’s life. We must cling to our faith in Him. Together we will make it.”
Carolyn looked up at John with tears shining in her eyes.
“I don’t know what people do who don’t have God in their hearts to turn to, to lean on.”
“Neither do I, honey. Neither do I.”
Chapter 15
When I Became a Man
Over the last six months since Beth went missing, Christopher Daily had done a lot of soul searching about his role in his girlfriend’s disappearance. No, he hadn’t kidnapped her or caused her bodily harm, but he had gotten her in trouble on that night in November. He had tempted her to give in to him; he had introduced her to alcohol and sex. Technically he was at fault. And the guilt that he carried with him on a daily basis began to eat away at his sanity. He had convinced her that he could be trusted. It was a lie he had told many times to many girls. If a girl was going to be that naive, then he was certainly not going to turn down a sure thing. But he hadn’t counted on this turn of events. He felt ashamed and dirty. Why should he be allowed to go on about his daily life when Beth was dead, or out there suffering? Where are you Beth? Why didn’t you tell me? Where did you go? And then other thoughts began to flood his mind, thoughts he could barely stand to entertain.
We made a baby together. I’m going to be a daddy, well I was going to be a daddy. What’s happened to Beth and my baby? He wondered if it would have been a boy or a girl, and if it would have looked like him. I’m too young to be a father. I have plans for my future. But what about Beth’s future? What about our child’s future? They could have worked something out. He could have gotten a job. His parents and Beth’s parents would have helped out. It wasn’t the end of the world. It must have seemed like the end of the world to her. She must have been scared out of her mind. She must have been so ashamed. And she couldn’t tell me. She couldn’t tell anyone.
When Chris closed his eyes at night he saw Beth’s face. He heard her calling out to him from some dark and shadowy void, which he prayed was not death. “Help me, Chris. Please help me. I’m so scared.” He could see her tearful blue eyes. He could see her reaching out to him with one hand, the other hand cradling her bulging stomach. She had to be alive. She was so pretty. So young. She was out there somewhere. He missed her--her laugh, her smile, that sparkling, bubbly personality. Did he love her? He wasn’t sure. He had not given their relationship a chance to bloom. He had crossed the boundaries of intimacy without so much as a second thought. He was too young to think about having a serious relationship. And sadly, he realized now, he was really too young for the intricacies of an intimate relationship with anyone. He knew that now. The fire that he had been playing with had caused irreparable damage to all their lives. And even though he was off the hook as far as the law was concerned, he was still guilty. Guilty as charged. The weight of his guilt felt like a thousand pounds of iron lying over his heart. And for the first time in his life, Chris Daily lay upon his bed and wept true tears of sorrow.
“Dear God, It’s me, Chris. God, I know that You’re not happy with how I’ve been living my life. I know that I have been wild and loose and testing my limits. I’ve gone against everything my parents have tried to teach me about being a good person, about doing the right thing, about being a Christian. I know I’ve been raised in a Christian home. But God, I’ve never asked Jesus into my heart. I’ve never asked for forgiveness for the wrong things I’ve done. Oh God. I am so sorry for what has happened. I’m sorry for all the wrong I’ve done, the drinking, the partying, the sex. I’m sorry for lying to all those girls I went with, and for taking away their innocence. I’m especially sorry for hurting Beth. God help us find her. Protect her and the baby. I know she’s out there. She’s scared God. Help her to find her way home. Jesus I believe in You and Your death on the cross. I believe in the power of your blood to save me. I ask Your forgiveness. I ask You to save me from my sin. I ask you to come into my heart tonight, and live there. I want to be a better man. I want to know what it is to have peace. God help me. Help us all. In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.”
As soon as the words had escaped his lips, Chris felt a calm in his spirit. His breathing slowed, and his tears stopped flowing. A strange warmth began to fill his being as the peace of God flooded over him. This was a feeling like no other he had ever experienced--a feeling that no alcohol could ever elicit. It was a feeling that no physical connection could duplicate. Nothing that Chris had ever encountered in his eighteen years felt as free and as wonderful as this fountain of grace that was flowing in and through him at this moment. His manhood was not defined by his casual intimate encounters, but by his willingness to accept responsibility for his guilt. And accept the grace afforded to him by Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. It was on this hot summer night, in his own little bedroom in his parent’s home in Jackson, Tennessee that Christopher Scott Daily put away the idols of his youth and the sins that had so easily beset him. Not only had Chris, this night, become a Christian, but he had, indeed, become a man. And from this night on, Chris knew that his life would never be the same.
Chapter 16
Thy will be done, Lord
It had been a miserable month in Jamaica for the Merriweathers. Every morning after breakfast, John and Carolyn gathered stacks of fliers, donned their walking shoes, and set out to comb the island for signs of their daughter. Every morning and evening the search team briefed them on the day’s findings--or lack of them. Every day Carolyn grew more and more despondent, and John more stoic. From the very first day on the island it was apparent that this was going to be no easy challenge, despite the smallness of the island. Their search had stretched from Montego Bay all the way to the far end of the island in Kingston, with Kingston being a primary focus due to its size and population. No one had even the slightest information that could lead to Beth.
Most of the islanders approached would just shrug their shoulders and look away. Unemployment was at an all-time high for Jamaica, and they relied heavily on their income from tourists to support the island. No one was willing to jeopardize their international traffic to help the pitiful couple from Tennessee, no matter how much they sympathized with their plight. Carolyn also learned-- much to her dismay-- the rainbow colored toboggans were sold at every market on the island. Everyone wore them. And a large percentage of the native islanders wore their hair in dreadlocks. What Carolyn thought was a fantastic description turned out to be a nightmare. Her heart leapt every time she saw one of the brightly colored hats. She immediately scanned the surrounding tourists for petite
, young blondes. Her interest was greatly piqued by the ones that were pregnant. Now that she was looking for a pregnant girl, every young woman on the beach seemed to have that familiar pouch in her stomach.
The search team had combed the island for any new land disturbances. They had probed the beaches and caves and most likely spots for burial of a body. They had combed construction sites and landfills. They had walked the streets of Kingston with pictures, and at times even offered money for information. They had knocked on so many doors that news had spread to neighboring communities of them before they even arrived, and the residents would not even come to the door. The grueling days turned into weeks with little reward. Unless John and Carolyn could raise more funds to finance the search, the team would have to return to the U.S. empty handed. But John was not ready to give up on the search.
“Maybe we should head up into the mountain regions today--up near Christiana.”
“Actually, there is a spot, a small community known as Green Pond, that we would like to investigate today. But if you and Carolyn want to ride up to Christiana and do some interviewing, then we could double our efforts. Frankly, John, it seems we are coming to the end of our options on the island. There are so many places to hide someone. She might not even be on the island still. We have to face that possibility.” The director of the search team was trying to be tactful as he pointed out the obvious possibilities involving prostitution rings.
“It’s entirely possible that she has been taken to another island. There are so many in this part of the world.”
“I can’t just give up. She’s my only child. My daughter and grandchild are depending on us.”
“I know how hard this must be for you John. I have a daughter myself. That is part of the reason why I was so willing to put this team together. My heart goes out to you and Carolyn. I just don’t know what more we can do at this point. We are running low on funds. It’s been three weeks. If something were here, we would have found it by now. You know that.”
Reluctantly John had to agree. It had been a frustrating and exhausting three weeks. He could see the exhaustion telling on Carolyn’s face. He held her each night as she cried into his shoulder. They were reliving the horror of losing Elizabeth months before. But what was he to do? With all of his heart he believed his daughter was still alive. And Carolyn did too. Or were they just in deep denial about it all?
“I understand. Perhaps Carolyn and I can return home and begin fundraising. We appreciate all your help. We can’t thank you enough. I’ll talk to Carolyn tonight about making arrangements to fly home at the end of the week. I’m not sure she will agree.”
“I will understand if you two can’t give up the search just yet. I don’t know that I would be able to either.”
They shook hands as the director stood up to leave. They had been sitting on the verandah overlooking the pool and the beach while having coffee and breakfast. He had let Carolyn sleep in an extra hour. She had looked so weary the night before. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t make this morning’s meeting. She would be hard to convince that the search was rapidly approaching the end. It was going to break her heart. Still, there was no evidence, other than the tip from a tourist that his daughter had ever been on the island.
John looked out at the ocean. The azure waves were peacefully splashing ashore. He closed his eyes. The gentle sound of paradise soothed his troubled soul. He had never before been in such a beautiful place and felt such conflicting things in his spirit. The island was a place where people came to relax and enjoy themselves. It was a place where rich Americans came to get away from the rat race and the stress. Yet, a few miles up into the mountains, the islanders were struggling with poverty and deprivation. Few tourists ever saw that side of the island. They did not see the dirty barefoot children and their tiny homes playing beside the road with a skinny calf on a rope. They did not see the women struggling to cook a meal over an open fire with only a couple of dented pots and no running water. Every time John saw a little native girl, he saw blonde hair and blue eyes. He saw Elizabeth smiling back at him. Every time he saw a Jamaican infant, he longed to feel his grandchild in his arms.
Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he sat and thought about the lives these people lived, and how much he had in contrast. And how much he had lost. He had a choice; he could pick up the pieces and move on with his life, or he could stubbornly hold on to the bitterness of losing Beth and let it destroy him. If he never saw Elizabeth again, at least he had the blessing of raising a beautiful healthy daughter with every privilege imaginable afforded to her. God had truly blessed Johnathon Merriweather in this life. He could not be bitter at God, no matter how much his heart ached for his daughter and unborn grandchild. God was still God. He would see them through this.
Guess I better go talk to Carolyn about going home. God, please help us through this. Please show us the way to peace through this trial. If my daughter is still alive, please help us find her. Show us the route to take to get her back. Protect her from evil. God, if something has happened to Elizabeth, if You have chosen to take her home to You, please help us gain some closure. Please help us find out what happened. Help us find her body or someone who knows what happened. God, we trust You to do what’s best for us and Elizabeth. Help us accept your will. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Chapter 17
Hope Floats
Chris had attended church all his life, but had never chosen to accept Christ as his personal Savior. He had been taught all the Bible stories, learned all the children’s songs, and had gone to Vacation Bible School every year. But now that he had accepted Christ, he had a burning desire to tell everyone he came in contact with about this grace that had been afforded him and changed his life. He was determined to make an impact in the life of his friends. He wanted to find a place where he could serve and show his love to the One who had lifted his burdens and made him clean.
“I’d like to work with the youth, Bro. Dave,” he said that afternoon. “Is there anything I can do to help with the youth program?”
“Actually Chris, I’m so glad you asked. We have a new youth leader who would love to have an assistant. As a new Christian, I don’t expect you to take a teaching role, but you can assist him with chaperoning and organizing his weekly meetings and activities. That way, you can get a feel for what we are all about. In time, you will pressed into greater service as you grow in your Christian walk. How about it?”
“Sounds great. When do I start?’
“Bro. Greg is in the process of planning the annual canoe trip to float the Buffalo. Does that sound like something you would be interested in?”
“Man, I’d love to. Thanks, Bro. Dave. I won’t let you down.”
By the time the day of the trip finally arrived, Chris had become an integral part of the leadership of the youth group. He had shared his heart with them in testimony one Wednesday night, and fifteen teenagers had responded to the altar call and gotten saved. Chris was beginning to realize that the trials and heartache he had suffered on his way to becoming a man had all been in preparation for this ministry. He embraced his calling with enthusiasm and eagerness.
As the bus crossed the Tennessee River at Parsons, a pang of sadness filled Chris. This was where they had found Beth’s backpack. He hadn’t realized they would be taking this route. The memories of those winter months brought the bitter bile to his throat. He closed his eyes and willed the memories to stay in the recesses of his mind. He would not let the guilt that he felt over Beth’s pregnancy and disappearance keep him from ministering to other kids. This was their day. Whatever pain he felt, he would try to overcome it, and make it a memorable event for them. Still, inside he felt the unmistakable presence of Beth pulling at his soul. Could she still be alive out here somewhere? Beth, where are you?
The hot summer sun beat down upon the group as they piled into their canoes at the put in point two at a time, the stronger of each pair loading in the back. Chris thought it
would be wise to pair the teams in boy-girl fashion, with a strong male in each canoe. Chris’s canoe went last, so he could bring up the rear and account for any strays. The youth leader was at the head of the party of twelve silver canoes gliding out into the rural countryside.
The young man that had unloaded the canoes offered Bro. Greg a tip as he boarded his canoe.
“If you keep to the left when you reach the fork, you will come across a good swimmin’ hole about halfway into your trip. It’s got a good beach for you to stop and eat your lunch-- that is, if you haven’t lost it in the river.” And then the man laughed, jumped in his truck, and hollered over his shoulder, “See you in a few hours at the pull out point.”
The group sang choruses while paddling their way toward the pull out point. Every once in a while the current would swirl and eddy around a fallen tree, and if the canoers weren’t careful, they were pulled toward the tree and tipped. The teens would pop up laughing as they pulled themselves back into their canoes and continued on their way. Chris could hear shrieks occasionally from the girls ahead as a snake would swim too close to the canoe.
“Just keep paddling,” he would call out. “They’re more afraid of you than you are them.”
The scenery held the group spellbound as pristine waters unfolded before them. The sights and sounds of the city life faded to a million miles away. They stopped to admire the multi-layered limestone out-cropping. They waved as they passed the occasional camper or trail rider on the shore. And then, after a while, there were no more campers. There were no more signs of civilization. It was earth and river and sky-- nature in its purest form, the miracle of God’s creatures and creation. God, you are so awesome. Thank you for this day. Thank you for loving me so much, prayed Chris.
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