Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  Stephen pulled the large sliding doors closed, walked over to the doorway behind Marie, and closed that door too.

  “What are you doing?” Vincent asked.

  “We need to talk in private.”

  “If it’s that important, we should probably step into a more private room.” Vincent began to get up.

  “No. It concerns her too.” Stephen looked at Marie. “You do recognize me, don’t you?”

  Marie’s smile of oblivious bliss changed for a moment, expressing sadness as she looked at him. Their eyes met. She quickly looked to Vincent. “We should eat now, so we can have dessert.”

  “Stephen, what is this about?” Vincent asked.

  “Vincent, you’re gonna think I’m crazy. I believe your mother is the way she is now because her mind was pushed in a way it never should have been pushed. Something unexpected happened to her the last time she was in Saint Louis. Me.”

  “You are beginning to worry me. What are you talking about?”

  Stephen sat in the seat across from Vincent. “In Waltz’s video to me, among his last words was the remark that I should trust you. Vincent, I’m about to trust you with something I have only ever trusted one other person with—Waltz. First, I have to ask you to trust me. I have to make this right.”

  “Stephen, I do trust you.”

  “Good.” Stephen placed his hand on Marie’s shoulder. “Marie, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Marie looked at Stephen. There you are. He had accessed her mind.

  Stephen looked inside, searching. Her thoughts were so scrambled. She remained so afraid and confused. What is out of place? Show me what isn’t right. He continued to see flashes of memory and experience brief emotions that made no connection. Show me when we first met. I know you remember.

  Stephen stared at a younger version of himself through Marie’s eyes. The eighteen-year-old Stephen had just bumped into Marie. He wore dirty old clothes with holes in them. It looked just as he remembered—only, from Marie’s perspective. Her thoughts were harsh.

  Lazy child. Dirty. He should be in school, learning to be productive. I’d hate to support another one on unemployment.

  The face of his younger self looking back at him quickly turned from surprise to anger. His eyes even glowed a brighter blue. Stephen began to feel hatred and anger that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Then he had an uncontrollable urge to throw himself in the pool. As he lifted himself out of the pool, he looked back at his younger self and became filled with loathing and self-hate. Marie began pulling at her hair and clothes. “Meaningless, cruel,” she said. “What’s the point? Hide at home. Vicious world.”

  That’s it. I made you hate yourself. The feelings I felt toward you, I embedded in you.

  Stephen reached and placed a hand on the side of Marie’s head, then cradled it. He needed to search through the memories again, go further. Flashes of various memories continued to go through his mind. Marie began to shake and groan.

  “Stephen, what are you doing?” Vincent grabbed hold of him, trying to pull him away. “Let go of her.”

  His efforts were useless. Stephen and Marie were linked. Nothing could have pulled them apart.

  In her memories, he saw Marie as a younger woman, in a wedding gown. In front of her, he looked at the face of a young man with black hair and brown eyes. The man showed such love and adoration for her.

  “Elizabeth Marie Cohen, I will love you until I die.”

  Stephen began to pull back out of Marie’s mind as more images flashed through his. He sat looking at her. A single tear ran down her cheek. Stephen wiped it from her cheek with his thumb, releasing her face to hold her hand.

  “I’m so sorry. I was a kid. I didn’t know.” A tear ran down Stephen’s cheek too.

  “What just happened?” Vincent stood next to Marie, looking at Stephen.

  Marie turned to Vincent, placing her hand on his. “Mr. Stockton here just saved me.” Marie smiled.

  Stephen and Vincent looked at Marie, then to each other. Stephen wondered how she knew he was Waltz’s son. He wished he could see what was in Vincent’s mind. He turned back to Marie. “Actually, my last name is Cross.”

  “Nonetheless, you are his son.” Marie smiled at him.

  “How? What?” Vincent pleaded.

  “You mean how did he save me? Or, how did I know he was Waltz’s son and the last of his bloodline?”

  “Elizabeth Marie . . . you were the one from Waltz’s triune that fell.”

  Vincent sat back down, mouth half open, looking back and forth between the two.

  “Vincent, don’t act so surprised. You grew up with the stories, son.”

  “But Waltz? He was one of the Mighty? And part of your triune?”

  “Yes, son. He’s the protector who tried to make me see reason. When he failed, he did what was needed.”

  “I thought that was nonsense.” Vincent looked on for a moment. “So, you really had powers and lost them—”

  “—and,” Marie said, “finally came to see reason when I was no longer drunk with the allure of it all. You were just a toddler then.”

  “So, how did Stephen fix your mind?”

  “Young Stephen inadvertently caused my issues as he had never been taught about his powers. Being the child of two Mighties, he shouldn’t have powers at all. However, his powers awakened in a very strong fashion when he heard my thoughts. My thoughts made him angry. Only, what he couldn’t know was that my thoughts were directed at some other young man, not him. The child was rude, a lazy delinquent.” Marie looked at Stephen. “You bumped into me at the wrong moment.”

  Stephen sat stunned for a moment. “I-I didn’t know.” He looked at Vincent and continued. “I filled her with hatred for herself, making her crazy. To be honest, she’s incredibly strong to have survived like that.” Stephen wiped a tear from his face. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  “It’s okay. You didn’t know about your powers. None of us did. If we had known, Waltz would have trained you, and it wouldn’t have happened.” Marie turned to her son. “Stephen took the hatred and replaced it with a memory I had long lost, a memory of your father on our wedding day.”

  “Before my father turned full-on bad?” Vincent leaned in toward Marie. “Was he kind then?”

  “Very.” Marie smiled. “I thought I could help him, to keep him from becoming one of the Fallen.”

  “Wait, your dad was one of the Fallen?”

  “He is still.” Vincent lowered his head. “He left when Mom changed and renounced the ways of the Fallen.”

  “Well, now I know why you’re special,” Stephen retorted.

  “What are you talking about? How is he special?” Marie asked.

  “Vincent has powers.”

  “That’s impossible. The child of a Fallen doesn’t have powers, let alone the child of two.” Vincent knew the stories very well.

  “Vincent, you’re finally wrong about something, because you do have powers. Besides, your mom here isn’t exactly one of the Fallen anymore.”

  “But Dad is.” Vincent donned a confused expression.

  Stephen shrugged. He didn’t know very much about Mighty or Fallen and assumed there must be an explanation.

  “What powers? What has he done?” Mary looked surprised.

  “Your son, Vincent, is the only person I have never been able to read.”

  Marie looked at Vincent with what could only be amazement. “You’re a protector, a priest.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s right,” Stephen said. “It all fits. That’s one of the reasons Waltz trusted you so much. He knew you wouldn’t tell anyone about me and that no one could extract the information from your mind.” Stephen stood quickly, sending the chair crashing to the floor. “Wait! How did Waltz help you get started?”

  “He got me to go out on my own and help people.”

  “There has to be more to it. Think, son.” Marie grabbed Vincent’s hand.

/>   Vincent leaned back into his chair. “Meditation . . .” he mumbled.

  “What?” Stephen and Marie asked in unison.

  “I was not fitting in at the firm. I was doing very well, but not fitting in caused me to feel stressed. Waltz began talking with me and convinced me to have a Bible study with him. Sometimes we would spend a moment quietly meditating on what we had read or the day in general. On particularly stressful days he would have me picture a wall around me that kept everything else out. After a while, nothing got to me anymore.”

  “The wall . . . When I would try to read your mind, it felt like running into a wall.” Stephen laughed. “All this time I was working with a protector and never knew it.”

  ****

  They continued to talk that evening and throughout the weekend. Marie had been aware of all that was going on around her the past five years, but she’d been unable to process or respond to it in a normal manner. Vincent had been completely unaware of anything. He’d always believed the Mighty and the Fallen to be tales. Stephen picked Marie’s brain for stories about a younger Waltz and made plans to help Vincent further train his gift. Before long, the weekend came to an end, and it was time to go back home to Saint Louis.

  Stephen loaded their bags into the trunk of the car as Vincent said goodbye to his mother.

  “Stephen, don’t think you’re getting out of here without a hug.” Marie walked around the back of the car with Vincent as Stephen closed the trunk.

  “Walter would be so very proud of you.” Marie threw her arms around Stephen. “Doing what you did was not easy. Sharing yourself with us, and healing my mind the way you did. These things are not something many Mighty would have done.” She stepped back and held Stephen at a distance. “You aren’t alone. You’ll always have family here. As for the Mighty, it’s a journey you’ll have to take. I can’t make it for you. And, I can’t give you shortcuts. I have faith you’ll get there though. When you do, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But, I don’t believe you’ll need me to at that point.”

  “Thank you. I think you’ve given me more this weekend than I gave you. You should come and see Bernie.”

  “No.” Marie walked only a couple of steps before turning back to Stephen. “Bernie cannot know about me. No one else can. I’m better off if they still think I’m crazy.”

  “Why?” Vincent asked.

  She grabbed Vincent’s hand. “If the Mighty know, it won’t be long before your father finds out. I don’t want to chance him trying to find you—not now.”

  “Okay, Mother. No one will know.”

  They hugged one more time. Marie went and stood on the steps, watching as they pulled away.

  “Well, are you ready to get back to the city?” Stephen looked at Vincent, who appeared more serious than ever.

  “Vincent, are you okay? You know I can’t read your mind, so help me out.” Stephen’s attempt at humor went unnoticed.

  “I need your help, Stephen.”

  “Sure. With what?”

  “I have to find my father.”

  Stephen protested, “What? Your mom said—”

  “She’s afraid of him. She wants no one to know because of him. I remember him being abusive to her before he left. I want her freed of him.”

  “Okay. I’ll help you. But you have to help me find the person responsible for Waltz’s death.”

  “Deal.”

  “What’s your father’s name?”

  “Anthony Abate.”

  The rest of the ride home remained mostly silent; they chatted very little. But Stephen’s mind went back to his task. The weekend detour had been great. Yet, a daunting task waited for him in Saint Louis. Plus, he now had to help Vincent find his father as well.

  Chapter 15

  Stephen sat on the couch in his apartment, looking out the window as the rain pounded against the glass. He didn’t mind it. In fact, the sound soothed him. It helped to ease all that lingered in his mind. A week ago he had made Vincent a promise to help him find his father. He hadn’t a clue as to where to begin.

  He carried so much weight on his shoulders—finding the person responsible for Waltz’s death, training Vincent, and helping to find his father. Not to mention the choice that had been looming over him ever since he first learned of the Mighty: follow the Son of God and join them or risk being rejected, even hunted, as one of the Fallen.

  A door opened and shut. The sound of heels crossing the hardwood floor echoed in the spacious room. A warm touch caused his tense muscles to relax as soft hands began to rub his shoulders and neck. It felt good, exactly what he needed.

  “You’re very tight, Babe.” More than the rain, Patty’s voice soothed him and melted the troubles of his mind. “Has the office been that stressful?”

  Stephen turned and pulled her over the couch into his lap, laughing as she slapped his bare arm. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind. Waltz’s death has been hard.” He hadn’t thought much about his business—another weight on his shoulders.

  Patty grabbed his chin and kissed him, lingering just a moment.

  “I needed that,” he said with a smile.

  “There’s more where that came from,” Patty replied.

  Stephen leaned in for another kiss. Patty pushed him away. “But not right now. We have to get going. So get up and put a shirt on.” Patty stood and walked back around the couch to grab her purse from the floor.

  “Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Stephen protested as he stuck his arms through the sleeves.

  “If I did, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?” Patty turned to Stephen and dusted off the shoulders of his shirt. “Really? You couldn’t have pressed it?” She gave him a look.

  “Okay, it’s that kind of surprise.” Stephen walked over to the closet and grabbed a dry-cleaned shirt still in the plastic. “You didn’t tell me I needed to dress nice for the occasion.”

  “Fair enough. Please hurry.” Patty fiddled with the handle of her purse while he changed.

  “That better?”

  “Much.” She smiled. “Now, let’s go.”

  The two rode in Patty’s small beat-up car, heading downtown. Stephen attempted to find out what secret she kept the entire way. He didn’t like surprises. Patty, however, proved better than most at keeping secrets and refused to say a word. They parked downtown, near Gateway Park, and began walking away from the arch. It wasn’t long afterward that Stephen realized where they were going.

  As they approached Kiener Plaza, mixed emotions began to fill his heart. He’d experienced so much in this park. Waltz had found him, his gift awakened, and Waltz died all in this same spot. On top of that, he had spent countless hours playing there as a kid and helping Waltz hand out necessities to the homeless. It seemed that all the good that had taken place here sat in the shadow of Waltz’s death, forever marred.

  Stephen looked to see several people grouped together underneath a covering of umbrellas. As he and Patty approached, he recognized Vincent, Johnathan, and several others from the office. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

  “Stephen.” Johnathan stepped forward. “We know this place meant a lot to you and Waltz. He told each one of us on multiple occasions how fond he was of this very spot. Where we’re standing is the spot where he found you. We can only imagine that this place has just as much meaning for you as it did Waltz.”

  Stephen held back his emotion no longer. A single tear ran down his cheek. Patty wiped it away and pulled herself close to his side.

  Vincent spoke next. “We want to bring some joy back to this place—not only for you, but for the many lives Waltz touched.” Several people that lingered nearby joined the group. “In this gathering, you will find people that were homeless whom he sheltered, hungry whom he fed, even imprisoned whom he visited. Waltz was light to this world, showing just how brightly one light can shine in the darkness.”

  The group in front of him parted. In the center stood a small tree and monum
ent. On the monument was inscribed:

  In honor of Ian Walter “Waltz” Stockton

  He let the Light of Christ shine ever so brightly.

  Isaiah 9:2

  “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

  On those living in the land of darkness a light has dawned.”

  “Stephen.” Bernie stepped through the crowd. “Waltz will be missed. I know he was your light. He helped you in so many ways. Now it’s time to find your own path. I hope this will help you do that.”

  Stephen hugged him tight. He sometimes forgot how big Bernie was, until he hugged him. Bernie squeezed him back.

  “Thank you,” Stephen said as he moved back to Patty’s side. “Thank you, all.” Stephen raised his voice for everyone to hear. “Waltz’s death was the hardest moment I’ve endured. And you’re right—this place has meant a lot to me over the years. Waltz dying here tainted those memories.” He turned and looked at the arch, lit and standing high above the rooftops. “Just as the Gateway Arch stands as a sentinel, forever guarding the memory of those who left their homes, and even families, to expand westward, this monument will stand to remind others of a man who devoted his life to loving others and spreading that love. It will remind me to be more like him, to stand boldly for what I believe in, and never waiver.”

  Vincent went and stood next to Stephen. “Now, we would ask you all to join us back at the office, where we will have refreshments. And you’ll have an opportunity to look at plans for a new kitchen for the homeless that will be built in Waltz’s honor.”

  As the crowd began to disperse, Stephen lingered. He stared at the monument. It was a nice gesture. It wouldn’t bring him back though. A small, gentle hand squeezed his shoulder.

  “Babe, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine.” Patty paused for a response. “You haven’t really talked to me much about this past month. I know this has been hard for you, but I’m here. I can help.”

  “I wish that were true.” Stephen turned to face her. He could see by the look on her face that what he said had hurt her. “Patty, there are some things I need to keep to myself right now. I can’t explain it. I’m sorry. I’m not going to lie and tell you nothing’s going on. You deserve better than lies. But I can’t tell you what is going on, not right now. I’ve just got a lot on my plate, stuff you really don’t want on yours yet.”