by Jack Dey
The electricity sparked, drawing Simon into Carissa’s warm brown eyes. He was trapped, held hypnotised by her softness and beauty, tussling with the confession he thought she had just made.
"He doesn't make me feel the way you do," she whispered coyly.
Simon's mind was racing, replaying her words on fast rewind. Then, almost sure of what he had heard, his smile revealed the intensity of his feelings and without thinking, he pulled her into his embrace.
"Wait!" Carissa protested.
Simon’s demeanour abruptly changed into shock and he wondered whether he had misinterpreted Carissa’s intentions.
"You cannot kiss me, until you tell me that you will not see those two other women!" she demanded forcefully.
Simon’s mind wasn’t connecting with her meaning, until it suddenly made sense. Smiling broadly, he teased her.
"I cannot promise that," Simon replied, feeling confident he now understood the reasons for Carissa’s aloofness at the beginning of the voyage.
Carissa squirmed determinedly out of his embrace and flushed red with indignation. She had just exposed her heart to him, in an act of vulnerability, and now he was refusing to give up his mistresses.
"They are my sisters, Carissa!" he said, laughing and pulling her back into his arms.
Their lips met in slow motion, while Carissa’s eyes shimmered closed, in anticipation. The soft skin of passion and the hot breath of desire burned into her memory. Carissa’s legs felt weak at the kiss she had dreamed of for months; her breath was short and her eyelids fluttered in ecstasy, teetering on the brink of fainting. This is the moment she had imagined, the culmination of her life’s focus and now her heart was on fire, cradled in the arms of the only man she loved.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 17
The voice in the darkness, a girl's voice, echoing down a long tunnel... there it was again!
"D-a-d-d-y, please help me...!"
The pounding heart beat, banging in his ears and driving his mind into a desperate, sinister corner, while the cries for help surrounded him in the darkness, echoing all about him and threatening his very sanity. The sound of scurrying feet and the pitch of the desperate voice increased into a helpless scream, while the direction of her sound kept changing. Feet that won't move and a voice that caught in his throat, muffled by clenched teeth, culminating in a spine tingling... m-o-a-n!
"Dan...! Wake up...! Wake up...!"
Disorientated by his surroundings, he searched the darkness in the room. Sweat trickled down from his brow and the bed sheets were soaked in perspiration.
"It was the dream of Melissa again, wasn't it?"
The soft, comforting voice of his wife, Linda, chased the blackness away. She flicked on the light, making their eyes sting by the sudden brightness. Dan swung his legs over the side of the bed and held his head in his hands. His wife wrapped her arms around his shoulders and silently prayed that Jesus would drive away the nightmare.
"You haven't dreamt of Melissa for a long time," she said, in a voice choked with emotion.
"It must have been the newspaper story of Gracie Freeman's disappearance," Dan's gravelly voice answered, trying to make sense of his thoughts.
"What are you going to do if they ask you to help in her case?"
"They already have!" Dan whispered.
*~*~*~*
In the early morning light, Dan inserted the key into the front door of the church building. The door scraped along the ground as he pushed it open. He struggled to remove the key from the lock, then shut the big opaque glass door behind him. He flicked on a row of lights, just enough to make his way through the dark sanctuary and into the corridor to his office. The door to his office was never closed, except when he was talking to people on private matters. He flicked on the lights, pushed the ajar door fully open and locked it behind himself. It was still early and the church staff would not be opening up for at least three hours.
He needed to get on his face before Father, to gain strength and to relive the nightmare of Melissa's disappearance, while offering others comfort from his own sufferings.
Dan was a greying, sixty year old, the Senior Pastor of Callum Vale Christian Church, a small, close-knit group of growing believers. Jesus had done a lot in his life in the past thirty years. Some of it ripped his heart to shreds. He glanced up at the punch line from his favourite sermon, framed and hanging above his desk.
Father does not patch hearts and minds. He gives us new ones.
Dan lay face down on the floor and tried to pray, but a flood of memories swallowed up his thoughts and threatened to drown him instead.
Melissa would have been thirty eight, he calculated. She’d been sixteen when she disappeared and every day after that awful day, they had lived a nightmare. Her birthday was a particularly hard day and still was. Christmas, for many years, was a day of tears but with Father's help, somehow they made it through. It seemed, from the few clues they could piece together, Melissa was starving for affection, especially from her dad. Dan felt the full weight of guilt and longed to rewind and be a father to his lovely daughter.
As a young pastor, Dan was always out, attending to other people's needs. He was so zealous for Father's work, he would often quote particularly sharpened words of Scripture at his own family when they tried to solicit some of his time. This went on for years, until Melissa suddenly dropped out of their lives and left him with a stinging word of her own.
MISSING.
Even after all night prayer vigils, begging God to take him and give Melissa back; all the hopeful searching and the dead end clues followed up by police until finally, they closed the file from lack of leads. After so many years, Melissa’s police file remained semi-closed.
The verdict... inconclusive findings.
Dan had volunteered to become a part-time chaplain for the police, helping to keep them sane after witnessing some of the most vile things one human being can do to another, at the same time, attempting to deal with his own personal tragedy. He had seen the police file on his daughter; it was the only connection left between Dan and her, but nothing it contained brought him any comfort.
It was Linda's wisdom, dogged faith and trust in a mighty God that helped pull him through. Instead of him being a pillar of strength for her, she had shouldered the load and when his world collapsed in a crisis of faith, it was her prayers and constant pointing back to Father that rekindled the embers of a dying fire and fanned it into a flame. After being completely broken, he realised that Father didn't need him to singlehandedly save humanity.
Father just wanted his obedience.
Now, he was about to relive the same nightmare through someone else's eyes.
The sound of the front door scraping along the floor, shook him out of his thoughts. He raised himself to his knees and glanced at his watch: 9 am. Time to drive into town and join his police officers for the day on their beat.
*~*~*~*
The patrol car pulled up outside a well-to-do, middle class home. The manicured lawn was a striking green, with a concrete path that neatly divided it into two halves, leading down to the mail box on the kerb. A cobblestone driveway ran up the side of the house leading to a large double garage. A two storey house, with impressive bay windows and flower boxes filled with botanic colour, bordered the ground floor. The shades were drawn and there were no signs of activity.
The neighbours peered through a crack between the curtains, watching two men in police uniforms and a third man dressed in neat, casual civilian clothes walk slowly up to the front door. The civilian was wearing a dark blue jacket, with the word chaplain blazoned across his back.
One police officer knocked on the door, while Dan glanced around the orderly front porch. To one side of the door frame, it had a plaque which proclaimed, Freeman and below that, Proverbs 28:25. Racking his memory, Dan recalled the verse said something about the righteous shall prosper. Dan stood back, behind the police officers, not wanting to interfere
in their business, but ready to lend emotional support if required. One of the officers knocked again, louder, and waited. The door suddenly swung open and an anxious looking woman greeted them, pain written across a tired face and eyes swollen red from too many hours crying.
"Have you found her?!" she almost begged.
"No, Mrs Freeman. We just need to go through some more questions. May we come in?"
"This is our chaplain, Pastor Dan Harop."
Juliana extended her arm to Dan. He took Juliana's limp and lifeless hand and shook it.
"Have you remembered anything that seems out of place or unusual for Gracie?"
Just then, a haggard looking man strode into the lounge room and interrupted them.
"Have you found her?!" he asked excitedly.
"No, Mr Freeman. We just need to ask a few more questions."
"More questions…" Des echoed dully.
Just then, Des’ eyes settled on a third visitor and his eyes asked a silent question.
"Oh, this is our Police Chaplain, Pastor Dan Harop."
The two men shook hands and Des sat on the sofa, at the opposite end from his wife and motioned for the men to sit in the remaining chairs. Just from this one simple action, of sitting as far apart from each other in a time of intense, emotional turmoil, told Dan that there were some deep issues happening. He could see deep cracks, in a situation that could end badly if no one intervened.
The officers asked if they could have a look at Gracie's room and in particular, her personal computer, which may give a clue to her intended movements. Juliana assented and led the men to Gracie's room. In her despair, Juliana had slept on Gracie's bed, hoping to make a connection with her missing daughter and had never even considered her computer.
"May we take your daughter's computer for forensic examination?"
The officer saw the despairing look and quickly added, "We will return it tomorrow."
Juliana reluctantly agreed, not wanting to release anything that connected Gracie back into their world. After the officers wrapped up their interview, Dan gave the Freemans his number. He hadn't had a chance to say much, but he was keenly aware of the harrowing journey ahead and offered to pray for them, then and there. They accepted his offer.
Des had never heard such a powerful prayer, while Dan prayed from the conviction of a man who knew what it was like to stand in the face of adversity with Father at his side. Juliana broke and cried again, while Dan embraced the Freemans and offered them his continuing support.
"You can call me any time of the day or night and if you don't mind, I would like to come back and visit with you again, maybe tomorrow if that suits," he suggested, sensing the urgency for intervention in this desperate situation.
The Freemans agreed, thankful for the hope and positivity that the police chaplain offered.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 18
Linda Harop was no stranger to adversity and crisis among their church family. It always seemed to be, when Father was at work and creating something beautiful in a human life, Satan was following closely behind, trying to sow deceit, destruction and death. Being a pastor's wife often stretched her beyond her capacities, and time alone with Father revitalised her soul, to enable her to cope.
Today, while she was alone with Father, she sensed He was asking a special sacrifice from her. In the quiet intimacy with her Jesus, she answered His request with a loving, whispered, "Yes."
"How can I say no, to someone who gave His all, for me?"
The quiet beauty of the presence of the Holy Spirit filled her heart with love and joy. A deep peace swept over her and she felt like she could fly, while tears streamed down her face, wondering what He had planned.
Dan’s voice echoed through the house, interrupting the intense moment, while the desperation in his expression suggested Linda was about to find out. Reluctantly, she left her time worshipping Father, at Dan's beckoning, while one look at her husband's face and she knew they were about to embark on a particularly difficult assignment.
*~*~*~*
Dan and Linda made their way up to the Freemans' front door and knocked loudly. This time, Dan was wearing casual clothes, without the police chaplain jacket. Des answered the door and a small spark of welcome flickered in Des' dull eyes, at the same time Dan introduced Linda. As they stood in the Freemans' hall, Linda scanned the surroundings. It was a mess. The family had all but imploded under the struggles of their missing daughter. A familiar emotion began to rise and she whispered a silent prayer for strength. She had been here, a place she hadn't ever wanted to revisit, but there is a price in joining with the suffering... a high price.
Juliana cried aloud, sobbing convulsively while lying on Gracie's bed, apologising to Gracie for being a rotten mother, then pulling her daughters pillow to her chest.
"Come home, Gracie! Please come home!"
The pain filled plea drifted unprotected out into the hall. Des excused himself and disappeared into the bedroom. A few harshly hissed words and Juliana shuffled out from Gracie's room, making no apologies for her haggard appearance. The life lights of a mother in crisis were nearly snuffed out.
Linda's heart was moved and the tears began to flow, as she recognised the agony in the suffering woman. She leapt forward and embraced Juliana and was met by the intense smell of unwashed flesh and it assaulted her senses. She’d been there, too.
Dan motioned for the Freemans to sit in the lounge room with them. "If you would bear with us, we would like to tell you our story."
An hour and a half and many tears later, the Freemans knew all about Dan and Linda’s struggles. The chasing after things, instead of the most important job in the world: investing in the lives of our children.
Juliana's eyes were huge. "How did you survive?!"
"One minute at a time," Linda said, blowing her nose. "A faithful God and the love and care of our church family."
Des huffed angrily, startling them. Linda and Dan stared up at him, as he paced around the room, unanswered questions reflected in their eyes.
"Our church have disowned us and we were told that Gracie's actions discounted us from being involved in their community and because of our sins, we were obviously being punished by the Lord. When we have fixed up our sinful lives, we can re-enter into communion, but until then, we need to get right with God."
Dan's mouth hung open in disbelief. This family was suffering intensely and the people who should have come alongside in their time of need had shunned them.
"Bunkum...!" Linda’s indignant passion broke the uneasy silence. "If these people won't stand with you in your time of greatest need, I know a wonderful group of Christians who would be more than happy to help."
Linda's ire was up and she was not going to let the Freemans walk alone in a mine field where, without Father's visible hands and feet, they would self destruct.
*~*~*~*
Before long, the Freemans' house was a hive of activity: meals were prepared; clothes washed; dishes done; all with tremendous care not to impose on their personal need to grieve. The two boys were fostered out to people in the church when the need arose. To all intents and purposes, the people of Dan's church had willingly entered into the suffering of two strangers crushed by adversity, helping to shoulder their burden and bear their load.
Whether they deserved it or not.
Linda and some of the ladies helped bathe Juliana and later, encouraged her from the Scriptures. Someone stayed with the family at night and all the while, people were praying around the clock for Gracie's return and the family's wellbeing. Dan's little church was doing what they did best: serving and encouraging the injured body of Christ in their greatest need.
The hands and feet of Jesus.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 19
Samantha Young had not seen the creepy man in the vehicle for a week now. She was not very good at remembering details and when she reported the sighting to the police, all she could tell them was that the
car was a sedan and that he had smiled directly at her and continued with his business of looking around. Even of the time of day, she was unsure.
This morning, she was late for work. Strange noises in the night, combined with the image of the man in the car smiling directly at her, frightened her and interrupted her sleep. The radio alarm was talking to itself when she finally woke. She panicked and jumped out of bed, berating herself for sleeping in. In haste, she threw on her clothes and ran down three flights of stairs, her shoulder bag and jacket streaming along behind her as she attempted to finish dressing.
Breathing heavily, she leaned against her car in the underground parking lot. Fumbling with the keys, she unlocked the door, swung it open, climbed in and cranked the engine. As the engine caught and fired., she glanced down at the fuel gauge, smiling back at her.
On empty.
She angrily thumped on the steering wheel, remembering she had been going to leave early this morning and fill the tank. Now, there was no time. Sam calculated there was enough fuel to travel the twenty minutes to get to work. After that, she would just have to face the consequences of her actions, later. Carefully checking traffic, she eased the car out onto the road from the car park and accelerated up the street. In her haste, she hadn't seen the parked sedan and a face smiling at her through a closed window.
Sam Young was a middle aged woman with short, bobbed blonde hair. Her job, as a secretary in a small law firm, kept her busy trying to keep two junior partners organised. As she arrived, she was swamped by people and telephones and she caught sight of her boss glancing up at the clock and then back at her. Suddenly thrust into a boiling sea of fervent activity, Sam answered another frantic phone enquiry and at the same time, miming back to her boss, “I’m sorry.”
Her work had piled up overnight, with several files marked urgent. Both junior partners had worked late into the previous night with major cases due in court within a couple of days. Sam didn't have time to waste. Nine to five were her official work hours, but she rarely left before six and today was shaping up to be a disaster.