The Greatest Gift (12 page)

The smell of the sea swept over Michael, as his feet grew tired from the long walk. The urge to reclaim his favorite bench at Crab Meadow Beach inspired his desire to continue the trip. He walked and walked, keeping his head high. He took a deep breath and gathered in as much of the aroma as he could. He finally stood at the tip of the shore, watching the waves tumble forward, as he cleaned some sand out of his ears. Removing his sandals, he took several strides into the sea and let the salty water soak his aching feet. He sat down and allowed the next couple of waves to massage his legs.

Are you up there, Vicki?
He looked skyward.
Can you hear me? If I haven’t said it lately, I want you to know I miss you. I miss the times we walked on the beach. I miss holding your hand. R
e
member the time when we were at Crab Meadow and we saw the small plane coming our way? We both thought it was having pro
b
lems and was coming toward us. I shouted to you, and you calmly picked up Elizabeth and got her to safety. Remember that?

He paused.
Okay, the plane was fine and we were too. I just wanted to say how grateful I was to have you in my life. I know the time was short for us. Dreadfully short. I miss kissing you. I miss your hugs.

Michael rubbed his toes, trying to gather himself.
I miss tal
k
ing to you, especially at night. Our room is so empty now. I’m alone. I can’t stand it. There’s no one to rub my back anymore. I have no one to touch, to love. I didn’t realize how important you were to me until you died. Now I understand how much I needed you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to appreciate it.
He sighed and looked up to the sky again, letting some tears leak down his cheeks.
I’d really appreciate it if you ask the man in charge for some help. I understand I …
Michael stood and saw two men rowing. They were casting nets and shouting to each other. He dropped his pouch and took several more steps into the sea. Before he realized how far he’d gone, Michael found himself about one hundred yards from the beach.

They’ll know how far Caesarea is from here.

He removed the cloth from his face, cupped some water in his hands and splashed himself. He looked down the shoreline but couldn’t locate any city markers.
I’m so tired I can barely feel my legs. I need help. I’ll take any kind of help.

Michael waved at the two men. “Hello, my friends,” he shouted.

They didn’t answer and continued to remove fish from the net. The water rose to the top of his chest and waves touched the bottom of his neck. “Can you help me?” he yelled.

The men were almost done as he approached the boat. One fish slipped away. Michael caught it and held it up. “Here.”

“Thank you, my friend,” a man said, smiling. He was elderly, certainly a veteran of the sea as evidenced by his gruff, wrinkled face. “Are you lost?”

“I am.”

“Where do you need to go?” the man asked.

“Caesarea.”

The man turned to the other and said, “This is him. Right?”

“Yes,” his partner said while looking up at the sky and pulling down his hood. He pulled the net up into the boat and picked up an oar. “Are you ready to catch more, George?”

“Same way?”

“Yes.”

The man went back and forward with the oar as the boat now had gone some distance. “Can you tell me where to find Caesarea?” Michael asked.

“Stay along the shore and follow us.”

“I am coming,” Michael said.

He waded back to the beach, picked up his pouch and walked parallel to the boat, the wet sand clinging to the inside of his toes. He stepped hard against rocks as he walked the shoreline to dislodge it.

The men rowed at a faster pace so Michael jogged a few yards. “Hey, what is the hurry?” he called out.

Michael stopped and bent over, catching his breath. He took off his sandals and banged them against a rock, removing the last bit of wet sand. He looked up, and the boat was upon him. “Oh no,” he said, stepping back.

George got out of the boat and handed him a bag.

“What is this?”

“Food.”

He looked inside and counted four fish.

“You will need it,” George said.

“Am I near the city?”

“You are. By the time the sun is at its peak, you will be in Caesarea.”

The other man pulled the boat back into the sea, keeping his back to them. “We have more people to feed.”

“I am coming,” George said.

“I will row.”

“How can I ever repay you?” Michael asked.

“You can. On the twenty-fifth of December, you can bring the same number of fish to Cecilia.”

“Cecilia?”

“Yes, Cecilia Farmer.” George smiled and got back into the boat.

“Wait! Cecilia Farmer? Did you say Cecilia? Stop, George,” he shouted. “I know your wife. She loves … ”

Michael watched them row away. “You.”

George nodded, waved and smiled as they continued to row. They didn’t take a path along the shore. Instead, they rowed straight ahead, disappearing into the fog.

Hewitt went back upstairs to recover from the brief fight. Connie followed and watched him attend to his eye. “Oh, that looks bad,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go back downstairs with Holligan.” Hewitt kept staring at his phone.

“Look, divorce happens,” Connie said. “Happened to me. There’ll be some rough days. If you need someone to talk to, hey, I’m here.”

“That’s nice to hear, but it’s the least of my problems.”

“Is there something more?” Connie asked.

Hewitt hesitated.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” She watched his eyes stare at her from the bathroom mirror.

“It’s the pastor.”

“What about him?”

“He was hurt bad before. I took him to the hospital.”

“What?”

“I took him to the emergency room. I can’t believe what I just heard.”

“Tell me. Is he okay?”

He faced her. “He died.”

Connie covered her mouth. Hewitt brushed past her and went downstairs. Kevin pressed a washcloth with ice in it against his right eye. “I have to go. I have a job to do,” Hewitt said.  

“Are you sure you’re doing the best job you can?” Kevin asked, removing the washcloth. “The way I see it, you’re a miserable failure. You’re a drunk, your wife left you and you’ve screwed up this case.”

Connie walked over to Kevin, now standing in the hallway. “Please don’t tell anyone in your office about this. I need you. I need him. We all need each other to help find Michael and Elizabeth.”

Kevin walked a few steps toward the front door and turned around. He pointed at Hewitt. “He doesn’t belong on this case anymore. I love my niece as much as you do. I can’t ignore the behavior.”

“You were always after my job,” Hewitt said, approaching.

“Okay, fellas,” said Connie, stepping between them. “We’re not going to have round two here.” She faced Kevin. “Give him a couple of days. Maybe we can all figure out something. Let me dig through his dresser drawer.”

“We’ve already done that and I have his computer,” said Kevin.

“He wouldn’t leave everything on it,” Connie said.

“How would you know? You’re not even close to him.” Kevin gestured at Hewitt. “The only thing I can promise is that I’ll make sure this investigation isn’t compromised or conducted poorly.” He slammed the door behind him.

Hewitt rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to get myself straightened out, and I’m going to pay some visits to Cathy Evans, Mrs. Farmer and your friend’s mom.”

“What about the pastor?”

“There’s nothing I can do about him now.”

He grabbed a cup out of the sink, rinsed it, filled it with water and drank it all. “I’d better hurry before I’m taken off the case.”

As he opened the front door, Susan stormed into the hallway. “Did you hear?”

Hewitt walked away and out the door.

“Stop. Please. I want to help,” Connie said, running behind him.

Hewitt ran down the driveway and got into his car, racing away, leaving skid marks behind.

“Wow, why was he in such a hurry?” asked Susan.

Connie kept staring out the door.

“Don’t you want to know what I heard?” Susan asked.

“We know. Pastor Dennis died.”

“What?” Susan asked. “When?”

“You don’t know?” Connie asked, turning around.

“No.” Susan went to the living room and sat on the couch. Connie sat beside Susan and let her mind drift to the horrific possibilities.

Hewitt will be taken off the case. Kevin will run around like a madman trying to find Elizabeth and Michael. And now the pastor is dead. What if the pastor was right? What if he was the only one who knew how to find them?
Connie shook her head and went back into the kitchen. Pulling a bottle of wine out of the cabinet, she uncorked it.

Susan followed and grabbed her hand. “No. No more of this. Michael and Elizabeth need us. We have to help that agent.”

Connie pushed the bottle away, saying, “He’s going over to your mom’s house.”

“Why?”

“I guess to get some answers from the pastor’s black book he’s been carrying around.”

Susan ran to the door.

“Now where are you going?” Connie asked.

“My mother’s been sick the last couple of days. Her blood pressure has been bad. I’ve been spending my time helping her get things done around the house. I should be with her when he’s there.”

“Wait, what was your news?” she yelled out the door. “Susan?”

Michael slung the bag over his shoulder and walked toward a light in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before he reached his destination and faced his biggest challenges. He began to consider things he had to remember in order to successfully retrieve Elizabeth. He knew he had to look away when around the Roman soldiers. He must give the impression he would obey their orders. He also had to blend in with the crowd and avoid any confrontation while on the streets. To call attention to himself would invite disaster.

The horizon brightened, making it easier to see Caesarea. It looked massive compared to the other cities he was familiar with in the First Century.

He forged ahead along the shoreline, mapping out his strategy in his mind. He took deep, invigorating breaths. Near the city’s edge, there was a small marketplace and staging area where boats were loaded with cargo. It was quiet, allowing his anxiety to ease. He came upon a man shouting instructions to five workers near a very large ship.   The men were filling boxes with food and weapons.

“Sir,” he said to the big, burly man, “I need to find a friend who is a Roman prisoner. Where might they keep him?”

“Why would you want to find someone like that?” the man asked.

“Captain, how many more boxes should we fill?” a worker said, interrupting their conversation.

“Enough to fill the lower deck,” he answered. The captain turned and faced Michael. “The Romans are no friends of people like us. I suggest you leave if you can.”

“I cannot. I need to find my friends and daughter. They are somewhere in this city.”

The captain fingered his black beard and rubbed his eyes, stretching his back. “We sail soon. I need to organize my men. I wish I could help you. If you wish to seek your friends, you will find them in that building.” He pointed to his right. “It is where the Romans hold their prisoners.”

Michael put his hands over his eyes, shielding it from the early morning sunrise.

“Can you see it?” the captain asked.

“Yes.” He turned back to the captain. “Where are you sailing to?”

“Rome. We have expensive cargo to take there for the empire.”

“The Romans trust you to do this?”

“I am the best at this, and I am cheap for them.” He smiled. “I do not like them, but they pay with much silver. They help me feed my family so I do it.”

“What is valuable about their cargo?”

“They are taking a preacher to Rome for trial.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “A preacher from Jerusalem named Paul?”

“Yes.”

Now what? I guess this is what Jesus meant. I needed to take a journey. Maybe this is where I am supposed to be heading with Paul. But I can’t wait for him when Elizabeth …
He heard a commotion and watched four Roman soldiers escort Elizabeth, Leah and Aharon toward the boat. “Oh my God,” he muttered.

“We have more cargo,” said a Roman soldier, stepping forward
.

“I will need more silver.”

“You will get your share.”

Michael looked at Elizabeth. Her head was drawn down. The Romans walked her onto the boat. “How much do I need to take this trip to Rome?”

The captain frowned. “I thought you were looking for your friend.”

“Paul is my friend. Those people are the friends and daughter I am seeking.”

“Oh, I would not say that to any man walking around in this city,” the captain said, pointing to the boat.

“I cannot walk with fear in my heart knowing my friend may give up his life for so many.”

“That is a strange thought. Why is he giving up his life for others?”

“I do not have the time to explain. I have silver.” He showed him four coins.

“You will need more. I risk much when I bring aboard other travelers. The Romans are ruthless and will throw any man overboard if they think he is suspicious. I do not interfere with their prisoners. I need my crew to be safe.”

Michael looked down at the ground and kicked dirt.

“Do you understand?”

“I do. I still need to get on your ship.”

“You will need a handful of silver to do so. You will need to bribe the Romans. They are not as generous as I am.”

Michael nodded. “I understand. When do you leave?”

“As soon as the Romans tell us.”

Michael turned and looked at the building. The captain walked past him and shouted to a worker to start transporting the carts onto the ship. He rejoined Michael. “My friend, the Romans move when they are ready. You should move soon.” He paused. “I hate them all.”

Michael left and ran to the building where he was met by a Roman soldier. “What is your business here?”

“I am here to speak to my friend, Paul,” he said, out of breath.

The Roman lowered his spear to the ground. “I will see if he is allowed visitors. What is your name?”

“Michael.”

The Roman waited.

“Michael from Jerusalem.”

The Roman left and Michael gazed skyward at the structure. It stood about twenty feet high and extended many feet to the back and sides.
This has to be where the Roman officials conduct their business. It makes perfect sense. This port provides easy access to the sea, and it would only take a week or so to sail to Rome from here.
Horses pulled carts of fruit and fish so high some of the treats were tumbling to the ground. Beautiful women, clad in shoulder-less long white dresses traveled about in small groups.

“This way,” said the Roman soldier. Michael was led through a maze of long hallways lit by tall candles. He was stunned when he saw Paul resting alone.

“We will be sailing soon,” the Roman told Paul.

“I will be prepared,” he replied.

The Roman left.

“Are you in good health?”

“I am,” Paul said. “I am ready for my trip.”

“Why must you leave now?”

“It needs to be written.”

Michael walked around the big room in a frantic pace.

“You are worried. What troubles you?” Paul asked.

“My daughter and our friends. They are on that boat. The one you are going on.”

“Sometimes we need to take the journey to understand our purpose.”

Michael knelt down beside him and held his hands. “She is my daughter,” he pleaded “She is going on trial. Do you know what they do to citizens like this? I am not a Roman citizen, so I do not have the same rights as you. I know Jesus told me to be here for one of the apostles. I do not remember if there is anything else I must do.”

“Think, Michael. Think.”

“I am.” He shook his head and waved his hands in the air. “I was in shock when I first saw Elizabeth alive. It is possible I did not hear everything.”

“Go back to the boat. Let me think,” Paul said.

“I need to find more silver. Do you have any?”

A Roman soldier entered the room. “We are ready. We sail soon.”

Paul handed Michael a bag. “Use this to free your daughter and friends.”

Michael grabbed it and raced to the boat. He was met by two Roman soldiers. “I have silver to free my friends.”

“Who?”

“The women and man you brought aboard.” Michael emptied the bag and showed them the coins.

“Go,” said one Roman to another. “Get two of them.”

“No. There are three.”

“This is not enough, especially for the murderer of a Roman soldier. We will need one to take the trip with us to face trial for Marcus’ death.”

Three Roman soldiers escorted Leah and Aharon off the boat.

“No. Please. Where’s the other woman?” Michael asked, shouting.

The soldiers pushed him away from the dock. He struggled to fight his way onto the boat. The captain looked at him for a brief moment. “How long before we leave?” he asked the Roman soldiers.

“Soon.”