From Pharaoh's Hand (15 page)

             
“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.

             
“I can’t see the rest of the group anymore.  We should catch up.” Lindsey spoke, interrupting Chris’s communion. 

     “
Sorry.  I just got caught up in it all.  They’re not far ahead.”

             
Chris and Lindsey began to paddle a bit faster, and soon they rounded the curve.  Before them lay a fork in the river.

          “
Which one should we take?” asked Lindsey.

     “
Hm.  There’s supposed to be a spot to swim somewhere up here.  Can’t remember if he said right or left.  Doubt if it matters.  They probably merge back into the same vein eventually.  We might have to double back if it’s the wrong one, though.”

             
“Well, which do you think?”

     “
Right.  Let’s take the right one.”

             
“You’re the boss,” she laughed, and they paddled on.  Several minutes passed, but there was no sign of the rest of the group.  The brush along the riverbanks was steadily growing denser and wilder. 

     “
Must’ve been the other fork.”

             
“Probably so,” answered Chris. “Don’t worry.  They’ll wait for us at the lunch spot.”

     “
You two lost?” spoke a voice from the riverbank.

     
It startled Lindsey, who having gotten used to the solitude, jumped and nearly tipped the canoe. Chris noticed the word “catfish” spray painted in red letters across the side of the canoe.  Otherwise, it was identical to the craft they were navigating.  Catfish was sitting on his overturned canoe eating a fresh tomato.  The juice was running down his chin and staining his yellowed t-shirt.  He had been expecting Poke to meet him any minute and was slightly irritated that these greenhorns had missed the fork that took them away from his property.

             
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘lost’, exactly.  I think we took the wrong fork.”

     “
Lookin’ for the swimmin’ hole?”

             
“Yeah.  We’re supposed to stop there for lunch.”

     “
Shoulda took a left.”  Catfish took another bite and stared at the girl in the front of the canoe.

“
Purty day for a float down the Buffalo, ain’t it.”

             
“Couldn’t have asked for better weather.  What do you suggest we do?”

  “
Yer closer to it by turnin’ around and headin’ back to the fork the way youn’s came.  Besides, it’s pretty rough past this point.”

             
“Okay.  We’ll do that.  Thanks for your help mister.”  Once they had gotten out of Catfish’s hearing range, they discussed the interchange.

     “
Well, that was so nice of him to help us out like that,” Chris began.

             
“Yeah, but he sure scared me out of my wits.  I about jumped ship.”