CHAPTER 10
“Ryan?”
Ryan spun around to find David approaching him, his shoes clicking on the broken concrete. Across the street, the others were asking questions of newcomers and shouting into the entrances of buildings. His now-folded prayer shawl hung from the crook of his right arm.
Ryan nodded, attempting to smile. “We haven’t found them yet, but we’re looking. What did Elijah Dayan want?” He wiped his face, then thrust his hands into his jeans pockets.
David shook his head. “He wants me to return to Rome with him. Today. I’m to help him make last-minute preparations for a celebration that’s to be held for Puccini very shortly.” He paused. “I’m taking a separate flight from theirs.” He paused again, gazing into Ryan’s eyes. Unease surged in Ryan’s heart.
“Uh—David—what…?”
David fidgeted. “I would like to ask you to go with me.”
Ryan gaped at the man. He dropped his arms to his sides. “You want me to what?!”
David raised his hand for silence. “I know, I know! I’m well-aware of the danger you and Kristen face. But I need your help, Ryan. I really do. I would not ask it if it were not needed. I can’t do this alone.”
Ryan couldn’t believe his ears. He and his family had fled from Rome to escape death at the hands of Puccini—he had no intention of going back! He shook his head.
“Puccini wants to kill Kristen and me,” he said. “You said so, yourself. If I go back now, he’ll find out and order me killed. Kristen, too.” He sighed. “It would be suicide for me to return.”
“No, it wouldn’t, Ryan.”
Both men spun around. To Ryan’s amazement, Monica stood to their left, a warm, caring light in her eyes. Pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes. As beams of Heavenly light poured from her, David gaped at her in shock. “What—what is going on?!”
“I am an angel,” Monica told him. “Sent from God, to help you through these difficult days. I have a message for you from God, but first, I have another one for Ryan.” She turned to Ryan, clasping her hands in front of her waist. “David is not the only one who wants you to return to Rome with him.” She touched his arm. “God does, too. He has work for you there. Don’t worry; God will protect you.”
Sighing heavily, Ryan nodded acquiescence. “Very well. If that is what God wants me to do, I’ll go. But—” He turned to face the others, picking through the ruins of a demolished building across the street. “What about Rachel and Deborah? We haven’t found them yet, and we’ve been searching for several hours. We can’t even find the route we took to get to the Wailing Wall; the earthquake’s destroyed all landmarks.”
“Don’t worry about them.” Monica patted his shoulder. “God has His hand on Rachel, and He will lead your loved ones to her in His time. To Deborah, too.”
Ryan nodded again. “Very well.”
Slowly, he picked his way through the rubble-filled street, until he caught up with Kristen, who stood holding both babies against her chest, one in each arm. “Kristen, God has work for me,” he said. “He wants me to go with David to Rome.” He rubbed his right hand on his rough denim jeans.
Kristen froze, gaping at him. “Ryan! Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Ryan glanced across the street at the caseworker angel watching him. “Monica just told me.”
Sagging her shoulders, Kristen exchanged glances with Monica, then sighed. “Then you must.” She grimaced. "But how will you pay? The airport won't take gold, and we don't have enough money left in our account to pay for a trip."
Ryan bit his lower lip. "God will make a way," he said, at last. "We can only trust him."
Kristen gazed down at the babies in her arms. "Be careful," she whispered. "And come back as quickly as possible! I need you, honey." She took a deep breath.
Ryan forced a smile on his face as he nodded, his own shoulders slumped. He kicked a jagged shard with the toe of his shoe; it bounced a foot away. “Pray for David and me, would you? Pray that God will protect us and bring us back safely.”
Without a word, Kristen knelt to lay the babies on the sidewalk; leaping to her feet, she threw her arms around her husband. “I certainly will,” she said, her voice choked. Crouching, Ryan hugged Jeremy and Nicole, then stood up to kiss his wife.
Ryan chuckled as Kristen shook her hair back. “Forgive me, but I can’t help noticing that your earrings are identical to Monica’s. You two must have gone on a joint trip to a jeweler!”
Kristen suppressed a laugh. “Obviously, she shares my taste in jewelry.” She reached up to finger one of her pearl earrings, gleaming in the sunlight. Across the street, Monica’s laugh reached Ryan’s ears. She had obviously overheard their remarks. In that moment, a breeze caressed Ryan’s cheeks and ruffled Kristen’s hair.
Meanwhile, David watched them, till Monica touched his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her. “You said—that God has a message for me?” he asked.
“Yes.” Monica paused. “And the message is that God loves you. He loved you when you were just a wee five-year-old fleeing for your life from the Communists with your family. And He loves you now.”
She paused. “He wants you to come to know His Son—the Messiah your people have been waiting for these last several thousand years. He came to earth two thousand years ago, but your people failed to recognize Him. He’s going to come back to this earth in just three-and-a-half years, to fulfill the prophecies made about His Kingdom in your Torah, and He wants you to receive His gift first.”
David narrowed his eyebrows into slits. He pressed his fists against his sides.
“He sent those two witnesses whose resurrection you witnessed today.” Monica smiled, a disarming tenderness in her eyes. She laid a hand on his arm. “Their murder and resurrection were foretold in the Book of Revelation. You helped plot their murder a few days ago, with Elijah Dayan. Today, you saw their resurrection, David.”
David folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head violently. “Even though an angel is speaking these words, I find it very hard to believe. I mean, every Jew knows that this Yeshua is an impostor. He’s dead!” His voice choked; he adjusted his prayer shawl on his arm. “How did—those preachers—!”
“No, David.” Monica shook her head. “Yeshua has been alive ever since the Father brought Him back from death, 2000 years ago, and seated Him at the Father’s right hand. He fulfilled all the prophecies predicting His first coming, David, that were made in Isaiah, Micah, and other books of the Old Testament. And He’s getting ready to fulfill the prophecies for His second one. He took His Church to Heaven three-and-a-half years ago, where they will stay until He returns to earth. As for the witnesses, they fulfilled the prophecies made about them. Their mission is over.”
David nodded, sighing heavily, not wanting to accept her words, but no longer able to deny them. A breeze caressed his cheeks as he thought about her message. Overhead, a fleecy white cloud drifted.
Monica’s voice softened. “Turn to Jesus for salvation, David. That was the whole point of Moishe and Eli’s messages. Ask Him to save you. Turn to Him for protection, guidance, and love. He will not let you down, I promise you.”
David sighed again, hanging his head. He rubbed his forehead. “I wouldn’t believe my sister when she tried to tell me,” he muttered, gazing at the cracks and jagged shards at his feet. “I threw her out when she refused to relinquish Yeshua. I wouldn’t believe Richard and Ryan and the others, either.” Raising his head, he gazed into the angel’s eyes. “What about Deborah? Where is she? Is she all right?”
Monica laid a hand on his arm, a mixture of sadness and compassion in her expressive eyes. “David, put your sister in God’s hands.”
Nodding, David bowed his head and prayed silently. As he raised his head, a new peace flooded his soul. Suddenly, he froze. Monica had disappeared! Overhead, a dove flew out of sight.
Meanwhile, Rachel curled into a half-ball, pressing the sides of her hands against the shattered linoleum, careful not to let the shards’ edges cut them. Her purse lay on the floor next to her knees; she had felt for it until she’d found it. She hadn’t heard a single word from Deborah for several hours, no matter how loudly she’d yelled. She could scarcely see a thing, it was so dark. Was Deborah still alive, she wondered?
Rachel wondered if she was going to die, herself. Her adoptive parents would be so devastated—they loved her as if she’d been truly been born to them. My real mother loved me, too, she thought. I hope she doesn’t see all this!
“I don’t want to die,” she whimpered. “Please, God, I don’t want to die!” She took a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to suppress the sobs welling up in her throat again.
A suddenly unearthly light flooded the back of the store. “He knows, Rachel. God knows.”
END OF CHAPTER 10