She fell a few steps behind her partner as the line continued to stroll two by two up the aisle toward the altar. I wonder if this is how the animals felt going onto the ark. Elizabeth giggled to herself.
She skipped a few steps, prompting a few smiles from the adults nearby, then Elizabeth brushed back her hair, fixing her veil once more. I hope Daddy thinks I look pretty. The children started filling the front pews where the families were waiting. As Elizabeth approached her family’s pew, she caught a quick smile from her father. She glowed with pride, keeping her hands folded tightly, head up and eyes wide-open as she joined him.
Just like Daddy told me to do it.
“You look beautiful, Elizabeth,” Michael whispered into her ear.
Aunt Connie leaned across Michael and gave Elizabeth a big thumbs-up while Aunt Sammie gently reached over to touch her shoulder. “You look like a bride!” she whispered, her face fixed in a huge grin.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said shyly.
Ruth and Ed, her great-aunt and great-uncle, beamed at her, and Elizabeth remembered how grown-up they had said she looked when they had met earlier in the church’s parking lot. Farther down the pew she could see her cousins and Uncle Bill, Aunt Connie’s husband. Elizabeth leaned over the front of the pew to see them.
Michael gently pushed her back as the priest greeted the parishioners with his opening prayer. After she made the sign of the cross and strained to pay attention to the opening prayer, the first reading began and Elizabeth could finally sit. She instinctively grabbed her father’s hand as she leaned back onto the hard wooden pew. Michael smiled briefly at her, then looked up and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his new jacket.
Is he crying?
She tried to turn her attention back to the front of the church, but her veil was caught on the back of the pew. She leaned forward to free it, delighted that everyone around her seemed to like what she was wearing. She reached down to touch the box that contained the blue rosary beads that her aunt Sammie had left for her. They had been Elizabeth’s grandmother’s and she felt so special, even though she had never known her.
It surprised her when the priest came to the edge of the altar—usually it seemed as if church took forever—and she knew that she was about to receive Communion for the first time.
As the children in the front pews went up to the altar with their parents, her thoughts wandered to Aunt Connie and her father. When Aunt Connie came to the house that morning, they had argued loudly.
“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Michael had said angrily.
“But Elizabeth should have someone with her when she goes up. All the other kids will have two parents up there. Be fair to her.”
“In case you forgot, Connie, Elizabeth doesn’t have two parents. If Vicki was around, she would. But it’s just me here, okay? Or have you forgotten already?”
“How dare you talk to me like that! I know what you went through!”
“What do you know about what I went through?”
“Please, Michael, please. Let me stand up there with her.”
Then Aunt Connie’s eyes had narrowed in a funny way and her voice stayed firm but softened, although Elizabeth could still hear her. “Or should we just get your neighbor Susan to stand there? Are you sleeping with her? I wonder what Vicki would think of that.”
“You’re way out of line. Like today isn’t hard enough—leave it to you.”
“All I’m saying is that everyone else will have two people up there. Vicki would have wanted it this way.”
“How do you know what Vicki would want? Nobody can replace Vicki. Drop it!”
The woman with the pretty blue corsage snapped her fingers from the side of the altar, jolting Elizabeth out of her trance. The woman looked over at both her and Michael. Aunt Connie stared straight ahead, giving no indication of her mood. Michael put his hand on Elizabeth’s arm, urging her to walk to the aisle.
After checking her veil one last time, she clenched her hands firmly together and stood up. As she started up the aisle, her father’s hand on her shoulder, she began to silently whisper a prayer.
Dear God, I don’t care about getting any money today. I really don’t. Well, maybe a little, God. But, I want Daddy to be happy. He’s been so sad lately. I thought this would make him happy. I tried to look pretty for him, God. But he still seems angry. He’s angry at Aunt Connie, too. I don’t like it when they fight. I get nervous. Can you make it better? Can you tell them to stop fighting? Please, God. Please. I really don’t want any gifts. I just want him to be happy.
As she reached the priest, one last thought went through her mind.
God, you’re not mad that it’s just Daddy and me up here, right?
The dice game had broken up a while ago and Michael was alone again in his cell. He dozed briefly but the noise nearby kept him from any extended rest. He could hear Barabbas sleeping in the adjacent cell, his snores echoing through the corridor. How can he sleep in such a place? Michael thought, shaking his head.
An eerie quiet filled the prison. Occasionally someone would cry out for water, only to be met with more silence. Michael wondered if all the soldiers had left.
Chains clinked back and forth, reminding Michael of beads falling off a strand. He couldn’t tell what time it was as the last few flickers of candlelight cast their snakelike shadows on the concrete walls.
He agonized over a plan to return to Northport, mapping out the details in his mind: first, find the woman who took Elizabeth. Second, take Elizabeth back to the tunnel. Then find Father Dennis and have him call the police. Finally, call his brother-in-law Brian at the FBI.
He mulled over that last point and then thought better of it. He had had enough problems there. It was probably best not to get him involved.
Michael tried to settle his nerves by closing his eyes. But sleep was impossible. He continued to mentally go over his escape plans. How could he find that woman? he wondered. Perhaps she was looking for him. If all else failed, he knew that Elizabeth would try to find him. Then again, perhaps Marcus could help.
His body straightened and he could feel his blood rushing to his head. Yes, he felt sure that Marcus could help.
Footsteps echoing in the distance woke him just as he was starting to doze. He stood up. “Marcus? Is that you?”
A Roman soldier, helmet on and spear in hand, appeared and pulled open the door. Michael looked at him in confusion. “Where’s Marcus?”
The soldier gazed at him for a few seconds. “He went home. He wishes you the best on your journey. He said to make sure you take the same path home that you came from. It’s the safest way back. Do you understand?”
Michael nodded. He wondered if this soldier was trustworthy. Perhaps he would be able to help him find Elizabeth.
The opening of the cell door awoke Barabbas. “Where are you going, my friend?” he slurred, still heavy with sleep.
“I’m going home.”
“What? Be care—”
“Shut up,” shouted the soldier as he whipped his spear against the rods of Barabbas’ cell. “Move,” he demanded, pushing Michael from behind.
“Be cautious, my friend,” said Barabbas, his voice growing faint in the distance. “Watch your back. They just don’t let anyone . . .” Barabbas’ words were no longer audible.
5
WATER TO WINE
The remaining inches of wick were still burning in the dark hallway, and Michael peered into the cells they passed. He could only see shadows huddled against the walls, some sleeping, a few weeping softly. They turned the corner and approached a long stairway. Brightly lit torches were strategically placed along the route, giving them plenty of light. The soldier nestled his arm under Michael’s, making sure he wouldn’t fall. Surprisingly nice of him, he thought.
Five soldiers lounged near the entrance, drinking heavily. The air was thick with the scent of wine. “What are you doing, Titus?” one soldier asked as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
“Sending our friend here back home,” Titus replied.